Wrath   Part 1 of the 7 Deadly Death Eaters Tales
by AnneM.Oliver
Summary: Regulus Black's wrath had kept him alive for years when everyone thought he was dead,though as a vampire he could never really die. Hermione's patience had kept her searching for him for almost as long & to her he was very much alive & worthy of her love.
1. Chapter 1

**All characters and canon situations belong to JK Rowling and I make no money from the writing or publishing of this story.**

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**Wrath**

By

Anne M

**(Part 1 of the Seven Deadly Death Eaters Tales)**

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Summary: Regulus Black's wrath and anger had kept him alive for a long time. Hermione Granger's patience and tolerance had kept her searching for him almost as long. She knew he was alive, but in what sense? No longer human, no longer mere wizard, he was now a vampire, and his fury and need for vengeance was as strong as ever. Equally strong was his desire for her, and her hidden strength, and capacity to love, as well as her need to transform him from a monster to a human being once again.

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**Wrath –**Anger or Rage. Uncontrollable feelings of hatred and anger. Self-destructiveness, violence, impatience, revenge and vigilantism. Fury often marked by a desire for vengeance and retribution. God's punishment for sin. Vengeance, punishment, or destruction wreaked by somebody in anger.

**Patience **- The ability to endure waiting or delay without becoming annoyed or upset or to persevere calmly when faced with difficulties. The ability to tolerate trying circumstances, the ability to tolerate being hurt, provoked, or annoyed without complaint or loss of temper.

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**Part One**

She was there again. Three nights in a row, a lone woman stood in the shadows of an unsavory alleyway, patiently watching a house that for all intents and purposes, she should not even be able to see, and for three nights, a man watched her, impatiently wondering why she was there.

This house was well guarded with not only a Fidelus Charm, which only one man was its secret keeper, but also by a spell that protected members of his sect from being discovered by mere humans or others of his kind. Perhaps this woman was no mere human. For three nights in a row this man stood on top of the house, hidden behind a gargoyle, watching the woman watch the house, and he pondered this and many other things.

His shoulders were hunched over, almost as if he were ill. His brilliant ice-blue eyes flickered over her figure, hidden in the shadows, away from the streetlights. She stood every evening from dusk to dawn, watching, waiting, and anticipating. What did she want? What was her purpose?

He was about to find out.

Not because he wanted to confront the woman. He didn't. He wanted to be left alone. That was all he ever wanted. Nevertheless, he sensed that this woman was different, and that she was not going to leave until someone made her leave. That someone was going to be him.

He swooped down from the roof in a graceful leap to the gardens below, jumped carelessly over the high wrought-iron fence, and started toward the woman hidden in the shadows of the alley.

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Hermione pulled her jacket collar together to ward off the impending cold. She felt a pressing doom tonight. It was more than the winter chill. It was as if there was an entity, or a presence nearby, watching her as she watched the presumed abandoned mansion.

Truly, she had felt this presence since she started watching this house three days ago, but tonight it was more intense, more defined, closer, almost upon her. It almost seemed as if she was waiting for this moment to arrive since she came here.

Perhaps everything she believed was true after all and HE was alive and here watching her even as she tried to watch him.

Her research led her here. Countless hours of reading journals and books at Grimmauld Place led her to the conclusion that this was the house where she would finally find him. Others thought he was long dead. He supposedly died in 1979, at the age of only eighteen. She had long suspected otherwise.

She became fascinated with him, almost obsessed with him, years ago when she found his journal while she was still in school. Later, when they found the fake locket Horcrux with the initials of 'RAB', she suspected that the 'RAB' stood for Regulus Arcturus Black. She felt a kinship with him for unknown reasons. Perhaps because of the note he left for Voldemort stating that he wanted Voldemort to know that he was the one that discovered the truth. Perhaps because she felt that he was a bit overshadowed by his brother Sirius, thus the reason he became a Death Eater in the first place.

She felt that back then he was in over his head, and he desperately wanted a way out, much like Draco Malfoy had been when he became a Death Eater, and he tried to enact vengeance against the Dark Lord all on his own. She liked the single mindedness of that thought, even if he was not able to carry it out in the end. Indeed, most believed he died on the same small rock precipice where he hid the fake Horcrux, either from the poison in the basin, or from the Inferi in the underground lake.

Hermione never believed either of those theories. She believed another. She believed Kreacher was able to save Regulus from the Inferi that night. She believed he survived and went into hiding. She read everything that he had ever written from before that night and she believed that he was filled with enough anger, rage, and wrath that he would never have died so easily after seeking retribution against Voldemort. She also believed that he was smart enough to create a new identity.

In addition, she felt she finally knew what that identity was.

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The man felt no real concern for the woman's safety, even though there was other of his kind who was also aware of her loitering. He was well aware that many of them would love to prey on one as young, pretty and fresh as she. A great deal of damage could be done to a woman like this before she could even scream for help.

Not that anyone would hear her scream.

He moved closer, than closer still. There was something slightly familiar about this woman, though he knew not why. She had an aura about her. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her from across the street. She was a witch. He would bet his undead soul on that fact. Why was a witch watching a vampire coven?

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Hermione gradually became aware of a prickly feeling on the back of her neck, as if she was being watched from close by. Could the occupant whom she sought now be seeking her? When she first began to research her theory that Regulus might in fact be alive, in a sense, she was dismissed at every turn, especially as she was basing her assumptions on some old journals, a childhood feminine feeling, and the word of someone that most people in her circle considered a very unreliable source.

She sunk back into the alley and opened her notebook to re-read her notes from her interview with a vampire. Sanguini, a vampire she had first met when she was just a girl at Professor Slughorn's Christmas party, was also the only vampire she had ever met. When she was young, and had almost memorized Regulus' journals, she began to piece together the fact that Sirius' brother's answers to escaping the tentacles of the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters lay at the feet of this lone vampire.

For one thing, Regulus mentioned meeting Sanguini several times. He seemed to admire the man. He went to him seeking answers to questions that others could not answer for him. Hermione suspected that he also went to the vampire seeking an escape from the Dark Lord and from the stigma of being a Death Eater.

After all, Regulus assumed he would die from his betrayal of the Dark Lord anyway, but Regulus was self-centered enough to die on his own terms. He alone thought he could seek vengeance on the Dark Lord, and Hermione felt that he also would want to make certain that he was around to see the demise of the evil tyrant.

Opening another book, this one a tattered brown journal with the initials RAB embossed on the front in gold lettering, Hermione read the entry, written in 1979, shortly before Regulus' death.

It read:

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"_I met with Mr. S today. He helped me to make up my mind. I'm going to carry out my plan. I know that my anger is righteous and my fury is strong, and they will sustain me in this life and my next. Wrath is my burden, but it will not be my anchor, weighing me down in final death. I'm not afraid of death, for somehow I've always assumed it would come to me early in my life. Even so, that does not mean I welcome it with open arms. It does not mean I intend to embrace it lovingly, or with peace. There are all sorts of death. Death on earth, walking death, living death. Darkness and death do not necessarily go hand in hand. I will meet death on my own terms, by the blood of my fathers, or the blood of others…"_

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Then the paragraph stopped. Hermione could only assume that 'Mr. S' was Sanguini. When she finally met with the vampire again, years after their first meeting, and asked him pointedly if he knew whether or not Regulus Black was living or dead, the vampire smiled at her and he said, "Yes to both my dear."

Then, they talked for hours. Hermione asked him many questions – questions about his infliction, about how he became what he was, about how he fed. She asked him to teach her fact from fiction. He seemed as fascinated with her questions as she was with his answers.

He told her that not many of his kind lived in the open, such as he did. He told her that most of them feared persecution, especially those who were wizards as well as vampires, like him. He told her that there was a coven of such vampires in London. This coven was a mix of the two, vampires and wizards, but their whereabouts were secret, because they wished to remain anonymous. They were afraid of discrimination from wizards _and_ vampires, oddly enough.

She never figured out how she came to find this coven. Sanguini never told her exactly where to find it. He never betrayed his kind. Yet, one day, while she was out walking, his words stuck in her mind. He told her, "They can only be found by those who wish them no harm, and really my dear, who can count themselves among the friends of the vampires, although, you're my friend, aren't you?"

After recalling that one sentiment from a vampire she now considered a friend, a strange thing happened. The ramshackle old three story Georgian mansion with gargoyles on the rooftop, and chimneys that seemed to reach to the sky, and a tall, black, wrought-iron fence around the outside, suddenly appeared in front of her.

That was three days ago, and for three nights she watched and waited. Somehow, she knew Sanguini had given her a sign. Just as surely as she saw a house that no one else could see, she also 'felt' a presence that she was certain no one else would be able to feel.

Placing the journal back in her bag, buttoning her jacket, and swearing softly to herself, she stepped out of the alley and toward the house just as something made its move toward her.

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As he expected, there were others watching her. Moving on pure instinct, and a desire to save a woman he didn't even know, Regulus disappeared in a puff of smoke and reappeared right before one of his kind lashed out at the young woman.

She seemed to expect the move and pulled out her wand, though the other vampire beckoned it to him, grasping it in his hand, before she could stifle her scream.

Turning around fast, she lunged toward the ground and finally she screamed. The first vampire was upon her, pulling her deeper into the alley. The second one whipped around toward Regulus, hit him with a blinding impact that sent the man reeling, and had him on the ground in two seconds flat.

That was when Regulus knew these were regular vampires. They were not of his kind, so they were no match for him. They might have the power of mind control, and strength, but they possessed no real magic. He could kill them easily, and he would.

He pounced from the ground, flew in the air, knocking over the vampire that was on top of the young woman. The second one thundered down the alley toward the trio on the ground.

Regulus threw the man a quick look over his shoulder and gave him a glare of his piercing blue eyes. The vampire seemed to wither in his boots. He recognized Regulus for who and what he was. "We didn't know! You can have her!" he shouted when he figured out who he was.

Regulus looked down at the vampire on the ground. He was even more cowed with fear then his friend. He closed his eyes and said, "Kill me quickly."

"Death would be too simple, too easy for you," Regulus said in return.

Hermione stood quickly and backed into the brick wall of the building beside the alley. Leaning against the building for support, her hand went to her neck. Good. The vampire hadn't bitten her. There was no blood, even though she was certain that she smelled the coppery substance upon her.

Wait… there was blood on her hand, but it wasn't from her neck. She looked at the crimson liquid pooling in her palm and realized that she must have slashed her hand on a jagged stone or piece of glass that littered the pavement when she backing away from her assailant. She looked at the three men huddled closely together. Their words were too muffled for her to hear them. She looked at her hand again.

Suddenly, all three looked at her, the man against the wall, the man on the ground, and the face of the man to whom she had been searching for years. Regulus Black. All three looked at her hand, and the blood, and then three separate things happened at once.

The man on the ground toppled the man on top of him over to his side. The man who was on top of him, Regulus Black, screeched out in pain as something pierced his chest, and the man who was leaning against the opposite wall started to run toward her.

She screamed. Aware that her wand was missing she ran down the end of the alley, but by the time she got there, the first vampire was already there. She looked back toward the mouth of the alley and saw Regulus lying in a bath of soft light, a long piece of wood sticking out of his chest. Dread filled her body even as she realized it was her wand. The vampire had summoned it from her right before Regulus Black attacked him. It was still in his hand when he went down on the ground. Moreover, when all three vampires were distracted by her blood, the one on the bottom of the heap used it to stab his aggressor. It was the one sure way to kill a vampire – a stake to the heart.

Now, both evil vampires approached her. They walked slowly toward her. The made crude comments back and forth. She felt instantly sick to her stomach. She heard the sounds of Regulus Black struggling to live just a few meters away.

She refused to have searched so long and hard for him to have things end this way.

As the fiendish duo was almost upon her, she reached out her right hand, (the one without blood) and shouted, "Accio wand."

The sound of Regulus screaming as her wand left his chest distracted the two vampires in front of her long enough for her wand to clamp tightly in her hand. The second vampire whipped back around as the first started back toward Regulus. Hermione pointed her wand at the one closest to Regulus, because he was about to attack a man who was already close to death, and she felt it was her fault, so she had to save him first, before saving herself.

She shouted the death curse and the vampire fell overtop of Regulus on the ground. The vampire on the bottom looked over at her, helplessly. She quickly pointed her wand at the vampire who was now upon her. She said, "Go away now, or I'll kill you as quickly as I killed your friend."

"You will die for this!" he seethed.

"We might argue the fact as to who will die first all night, yet I have a wand and you don't, so I suggest you leave!" she said with false bravado, her fear making her heady with hope that he would leave quickly.

Regulus pushed the dead vampire away from him and sat up. He hissed in pain and shook all over. Blood poured from the wound on his chest. The only witness to the attack seeped into the background of the alley and ran away.

Hermione plummeted to the ground, shaking all over in fear. She dropped her wand and the hollow sound of it hitting the pavement echoed through the dark passageway.

"Don't be afraid now," Regulus said through clenched teeth. "Stand back up and don't let go of your wand. He might come back and bring his friends. We have to get out of here."

Hermione nodded. She grabbed her wand, stood up and walked toward the two vampires on the ground, one dead and one bleeding, but alive. Her mouth opened, partly in horror, partly to take deep breaths to keep from passing out. Her hands were shaking. She looked around for her bag, spotted it, and reached down for it. She started to place her wand inside and he said, "Keep it out, damn you!"

She did.

"Is he dead?" she asked.

"You said the Avada to him, so yes, he's dead," Regulus retorted. She edged closer to the dead vampire.

Then she looked down at Regulus. He was covered in blood. The front of his shirt was soaked through with red. He was trying to stand, but he was unsteady and shaking. She felt as unsteady as he did. She felt cold and despondent. She was in shock. She found the man she was searching for, was almost killed, and had killed all in a space of ten minutes. A wave of guilt swam over her even as relief took hold.

Regulus managed to stand. He reached out a large hand to her, placing it on her shoulder for support. "Well, witch, you saved my life tonight. Some say that makes you responsible for me. May God have mercy on your soul if that's the case." His fingers dug into her shoulder tightly. She could tell he was in a great deal of pain.

She reached around him with her arms and said, "May I help you inside your house?"

"You mean the house you shouldn't be able to see?" he asked.

She merely nodded.

"I suppose so," he snorted. They started walking across the street, his arm around her shoulders, her arms tightly around his waist. When they were just outside the iron gates, he reached down for her wand to open the lock, but grasped her empty hand instead, the one soaked with blood.

He grasped it tightly and stared at the red blood welled upon it. "Sir?" she said hesitantly.

He brought her hand to his nose and inhaled deeply. His eyes seemed to widen, but then he dropped her hand and leaned more heavily against her. He mumbled something under his breath. She couldn't tell what he said. His breath was on her neck, and he finally whispered in her ear, "Just help me inside, please."

"How do I get past the wards?" she asked. "Or do we merely go through the gates and up the steps and into the front door?"

He pulled her into a hard embrace. She shivered again. Not out of fear, or from the cold, but from something baser, raw, and intense.

He said, "Are you afraid of me?"

"No."

"Why are you here? Who are you? Do you know who I am?" he asked, while still holding her in a tight embrace. His head felt as if it was swimming. He couldn't contemplate the journey into the house. He felt as if he might expire right here on the sidewalk.

She held him as tightly as he held her. "I'll answer all your questions shortly, but can we get you inside first, so I might heal you?"

"To hell with that," he said. "I'll heal eventually."

"Please, then, can we get off the street. That vampire might come back," she offered.

"Now that's a good point," he mumbled. He backed away from her. His blood was all over her jacket. She held him still, and he kept a heavy arm across her shoulders. He reached for the lock on the gate, but then remembered, "I don't have my wand. Damn." He was going to use hers earlier but was distracted by her blood. It had been years since someone's blood had called to him as hers had.

"I didn't know a vampire needed a wand," she remarked.

Her acknowledgment that he was a vampire shocked him, but not as much as when she offered, "Will mine do, Regulus?"

"How the bloody hell do you know my name?" he barked. Then he promptly passed out.


	2. Chapter 2

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Part II**

Everything that happened next happened very quickly. Regulus passed out. He slumped lifeless, nothing but dead weight, against Hermione, causing her to fall over on the wrong side of the gate. She struggled to reach up for the lock with her wand when two men came running out of the house toward them.

The first man tore open the gate and practically pulled Regulus Black off her. The second man picked her up, effortlessly, and dragged her into the house. She didn't protest, though she knew she should. The men, both vampires, took their charges through the front door, up a grand staircase, down a long, narrow corridor and then up another narrow staircase, to a room on the third floor.

The man who held her arm in his hand practically threw her into the corner of the room, after having taken her wand from her. The other man placed Regulus gently upon a giant bed and pulled open his black coat and shirt.

"What was he staked with, woman?" the man beside her asked harshly.

"My wand," she offered.

The first man looked at the wand in his hand and then toward the man who attended the vampire on the bed. "A wand," he repeated. "Black was staked with a wand. No wonder he's not healing yet." He handed the wand to the older looking vampire.

The man helping Regulus on the bed sighed, looked at Hermione in the corner, then the wand now resting in his hand and accusingly said, "Yes, no wonder."

"I didn't stake him!" she offered.

"I never said you did," the man beside the bed said. He looked at the other man, who appeared younger, and said, "Abel, go get the healer." The younger vampire left the room.

"May I help?" Hermione asked.

"No, but stay there," the man attending Regulus ordered. He held her wand out behind him. She stepped forward to take it. "What is your name?" He looked over his shoulder.

"Hermione Granger," she said.

The man gave a spark of recollection and then stood quickly. "Stay with him for a moment, Hermione Granger," he said before he turned to leave the room.

"Wait," Hermione called out. "What's your name?"

"Cain," he answered.

"Wait? Abel and Cain? Cain and Abel?" she repeated.

"Yes, Abel is my brother. We aren't the original Cain and Abel, though. They're merely names that Black calls us, because we appear to hate each other," he said with a spark of humour in his eyes. "Now, stay with him please. I'll return in a moment."

"Is he going to die?" she asked.

"It's not a good thing that he was stabbed with a magical object. We're vampires, but wizards, too, here in this coven. The one sure way to kill a magical vampire is with a magic wand used as a stake to the heart." With that said, he rushed from the room.

Hermione hurried over to the bed quickly. She looked down at the face of Regulus Black. A face she had only ever seen in portraits. No, that wasn't true. She had seen it many a night in her dreams. She wanted to help him somehow, but she hesitated. She didn't know what to do, and somehow, she felt this was wholly her fault. She looked at the thick, dark blood as it siphoned slowly out of a hole in his chest, smaller now than it was before. She leaned closer to examine it. His shirt was opened all the way to his trousers. His ribs stood out like knives against his skin. His skin was pallid and almost transparent looking.

Nevertheless, he was beautiful.

His hair was long, dark, and so thick. He had thick eyebrows and the longest eyelashes she had ever seen on a man. She reached out, tentatively, and stroked his fringe of bangs away from his face. His skin was cool and smooth, like porcelain.

And when he stared at her earlier, he looked upon her with the palest, most striking blue eyes she had ever seen. She was breathing hard from her earlier exertion and from the thought that she had finally found him.

Pictures and portraits did not do this man justice. Every rendering she had ever gaze upon had left out fascinating details, such as the flat brown nipples on his chest, the definition of his muscles that seems hard and soft at the same time. She reached out to touch the muscles across his abdomen. She imagined he would be cold, as fAbel led people to believe about vampires, but he was warm. She wondered what his warm skin would feel like next to hers.

Now that she found him, what did she intend to do? She looked around what she could only assume was his bedchamber and reflected on that very thing. She started to open a book that was on the bedside table when a hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, shocking her.

She looked into his astonished gaze and was temporarily stunned into submission. She blushed with embarrassment, but then said, "Mr. Black, are you alright?"

The man winced faintly, though he held her wrist as tightly as before. She gasped as his large fingers snaked around her wrist. It wasn't so much that he was holding her captive, but that he was staking possession of her. Forgetting how to breathe for a moment, she stumbled slightly, trying to pull away. He took advantage of that, and even in his weakened state, he had ten times her strength. He pulled her closer, forcing her to sit beside him on the bed.

He said, "Why such formality now? It was Regulus when you talked to me earlier. Tell me, sweetness, how do you know my name? How did you find my coven? And lastly, how did you know I was vampire?"

She reached for the end of the covers with her free hand, (for he still had the other in his grasp) and she dabbed at the wound on his chest, which was growing smaller still. He grimaced slightly, revealing strong, white, but quite normal looking teeth. "Before I answer, we need to take care of your wound." She wrenched her wrist free, went over to a small bathroom off the bedroom, grabbed a cloth, wet it, and returned.

Pressing the damp cloth against the blood on his chest, she wiped it a few times. Closing her eyes, she uttered one of the few healing spells she could remember. While her eyes were closed, he examined her closely. He found the woman before him fascinating, yet arousing.

She couldn't be older than twenty or twenty-one years old, yet he felt that she must have had a hard life, for she seemed to have nerves of steel. She was dressed plainly, and wore little if any makeup. Her lips were pale pink and full, even inviting. Her hair was pulled back from her face, but unruly strands were sticking out all over, making a sort of halo effect around her face. Her face was lovely, pure and sweet. What would such a vision of loveliness, with an aura so white and pure, want with a vampire such as himself?

He closed his eyes. He didn't want to think on it. He hated what his life had become, but it had become as such by his own bidding, so he would have to live with his regrets. His thick eyelashes fell evenly on his cheeks. He relaxed and a sigh escaped his mouth. She sat down by his hip, lifted the cloth to his brow and wiped it slowly.

He opened his eyes and pinned her with his gaze. A strange sensation passed between them and neither could move or speak. He reached for her face. He swiped his fingertips down her cheek, leaving a slight bloody trail. He said, "I'm sorry," and licked his lips. Then he asked, "How is your hand?"

She forgot that she had hurt her hand earlier. She looked down at it, the gash still red and swollen. She lied and said, "It's fine."

"What's your name again? Did you already tell me?" He seemed confused. The hand that had reached for her cheek was resting in her lap. She held it in both of hers and answered.

"I'm Hermione Granger, and I'm a witch."

"Ah, of course you are," he said with a weary sigh. "Your blood, on your hand, it smells so different. I can't place the smell."

"I'm not sure what you mean," she said, dropping his hand beside his body. She took the cloth that she had used on his and wrapped it around her hand. She felt suddenly nervous.

"What were you doing out there, all alone, Hermione Granger? Don't you know that there are dangers out in the world waiting to harm little witches like yourself?" He smiled and then moaned. "There are dangers to you in here, too, in this den of inequity, this coven, this hovel. You're like a dainty, little mouse thrown deep into a lions den, Miss Granger." His hand reached for a strand of hair that had come out of the clip and was resting on her shoulder. He played with the end and repeated, "Yes, my sweet little, precious mouse."

He reached for her face again, but pulled back. "Why are you here? Why do you look at me as if you know me?" he finally asked.

She started to answer, but a fury of movement into the room stopped her. The younger vampire entered first, with an older gentleman. She was literally moved aside by the healer. Both Hermione and Regulus started to protest, but then Regulus let out another moan as the man began to exam him.

Hermione said, "I've already healed him," but no one seemed to pay her any mind, so she started toward the door, feeling useless, invasive. The slightly older vampire, Cain, the one with dark curly hair, walked into the room and stood over the healer and patient.

"Don't let her leave," Regulus snarled.

Realizing he meant her, Hermione remained in the room. The vampire with the curls smiled at her and motioned toward the corner, to a soft chair. She sat down, gladly. She felt trapped half in a nightmare, half in a dream. She looked around the room. Decorated in shades of blue and grey, it was lovely. There was resplendent artwork on the walls, lush velvet drapes, thick carpeting, and large mahogany furniture.

By contrast, though, it felt like a lonely place. An air of sadness permeated the air. She sunk into the chair, and closed her eyes for a moment, to block out the sights and sounds and the sadness. The younger vampire, Abel, who in contrast to his brother had long blond hair, which was straight and pulled back with a piece of leather cord, stood beside her, but didn't say a word.

Soon she was unnoticed in her own little corner, in her own little chair. The healer left when he noticed that Regulus had already been healed. Lying on the bed, Regulus began to explain to his two brethren what had transpired between him, her, and the two 'rogue' vampires. Since Hermione was well acquainted with the story, she tuned them out.

Removing her coat, she placed it across the back of the chair. Holding her painful, injured hand with her other hand, she wondered what lay beyond this bedroom. The outside of this house was dark and ominous, but if the rest of the inside were decorated as grandly and impressively as this room, she would love to explore. She had so many questions to ask this vampire. She wanted to know more about Sirius. She wanted to know more about their childhood. She had questions about his time as a Death Eater. She wanted to know how and why he became a vampire.

Then suddenly, she realized that she had no right to any make inquiries of this man. He left their world for a reason, and her morbid fascination and curiosity wasn't enough of a reason to disrupt this man's life. This was no mere coven. This was a home.

His home. His safe haven.

Certainly, no den of inequity, as she imagined, though the man had thrown that phrase out to her earlier. She suddenly stood, feeling out of place. She shouldn't be here. She didn't know what she wanted with this place, or from this man, but she knew she had no business being here. He had worked hard, for many years, to hide from the mainstream wizarding world. Who was she to bring him out of anonymity?

She never reckoned she would actually find him and now that she had, she didn't know what to do. She started to walk casually, softly, and quietly toward the bedroom door, all the while watching the three men talking…Regulus on the bed, the brothers around it.

She stood by the door, almost in the hallway, and decided that she should go back and marry Ron, get a job with the Ministry, do all the things that were expected of her now that the war was over. Greet all the things that were waiting for her. Like a good girl should.

Except – even as she slipped from the room and looked down the long dark corridor toward what she hoped was the stairs, she found that her feet felt like leaden weights. She felt compelled to stay. Compelled to stay and find out why she was obsessed with a man she had only just met tonight.

She stood on the other side of the doorway and watched as the blonde vampire, Abel, kneeled before the man on the bed and then he rose up and walked toward her. She thought he would question her as to where she thought she was going. He merely looked at her, snarled, and walked away.

The older brother, Cain, leaned down as Regulus reached up for his arm. The vampire on the bed whispered something in the other man's ear. Hermione couldn't hear what was said. She only imagined that it concerned her. The man nodded, walked toward her, smiled and then closed the door, with her on one side and Regulus and himself on the other.

Was that it? Was she free to go? Did no one care that she was here? What if she told someone their location? What if she told the Ministry? If the Ministry knew that Regulus Black was still alive, they would want to question him. He was a former Death Eater. These men were vampires. They should be watched and regulated by their government.

She knew she wouldn't tell anyone that she found them, but they couldn't possibly know that. Still, she turned to leave, pondering these and other things, when she felt a hand on her arm. She turned back around slowly. It was the blond vampire named Abel. "Where are you going?"

"Home," she said, though it sounded feeble even to her.

"I don't think so, pretty girl. You need to stay here for a while, at least until we know what to do with you. First though, Black needs to gain his strength. He lost a lot of blood."

"Oh, of course," she said, repeating, "he lost a lot of blood." Did they have access to a replenishment potion?

"Right, so he'll need to feed and after he's done he'll talk with you."

Hermione's hand went up to her neck, out of instinct. "Feed?"

"Yes, feed," Abel said, finally smiling, and showing her a flash of fang. "Black wants to talk to you, but he needs to feed first. It is what we do."

"From who will he feed?" she found herself asking aloud.

He smiled just a bit and said, "You could always offer yourself. You do smell sweet, and you already have a cut on your hand that hasn't healed yet. Might taste sweet as well, and it was your fault he was out there and he _was_ stabbed with your wand." He took a step closer.

"But I saved his life!" she protested.

He took another step closer. He placed a hand on the wall by her head. Leaning forward, he inhaled deeply. His smile vanished and his mouth opened. His fangs elongated and with speech that wasn't impaired in the least he said, "Ah, pretty girl, you do smell sweet."

"Abel!" Someone from the doorway hissed. "Leave the girl alone! Black said she's not to be harmed."

"I wasn't going to harm her," he said, winking at Hermione. He looked over his shoulder at his brother and said, "You're such an old mother hen, Cain." He pushed away from the wall and walked down the long, third floor hallway. Cain raised his chin toward Hermione and motioned that she was to come back into the room with his head.

She gladly followed.

"He's resting now. Sit here until he wakes back up. You can't leave until he tells you that you can, you hear. It would be no good to try. Black needs you to stay, so you stay. And don't you dare hurt him. I know you have your wand, but you won't be able to leave even if you try. When he wakes up, he'll tell you what he wants to do with you," Cain explained. He smiled at her again, placed a chair right next to the bed, and pushed her down into it, before he started back out the door.

He was closing it as she said, "What do you think he'll do with me?"

He didn't answer.

"Your brother said he needed to feed. Shouldn't he attend to that first?" she inquired as well.

Cain didn't say anything to that statement either. He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

She turned back to the vampire on the bed. He appeared to be sleeping. It was nighttime. As her new friend, Sanguini explained, folly and folklore led Muggles and others to believe that vampires slept during the day and hunted at night. The truth was that at one time they mainly went out only at night so that they wouldn't be noticed. Sunlight wouldn't kill them. It didn't cause their skin to sparkle or any such shite, but it did hurt their eyes and it could weaken them.

"I'm not up for being a midnight snack, so you behave," she said to the sleeping vampire. She wondered if the other vampire, Cain, had fed him when the door was closed a moment ago. Leaning forward in the chair, she added softly, "And why would he warn me against hurting you? I wouldn't hurt you." She nodded with a 'so there' and then leaned back in her chair.

"You did kill a man tonight, though," he said before he opened his eyes. "So you can't blame my coven brethren from worrying."

She flinched slightly and jumped in her seat. "Oh, you're awake. About that, you know as well as I do that he was going to kill me," she labored.

"No…he was going to kill me first," Regulus said. He sat up in his bed. He grimaced slightly, a look of pain marring his brilliant, good looks for a mere second. "Of course, those two wouldn't have been out there if they hadn't caught a whiff of you. They were here tonight, visiting our dear friend Abel, and after they left, they smelled you and then THEY, in your own words, decided to have you for a snack. All in all, it's your fault that I'm hurt."

"Wait," she argued, "You told me earlier that I saved your life!"

"I must have been delirious," he murmured.

Hermione crossed her legs and said, "I am not at all responsible for what happened to you!"

He raised an eyebrow and said, "Oh really? If you hadn't been in that alley, watching this house, I wouldn't have had to come down and investigate. I could have killed those two common bloodsuckers on my own, easily, but I was distracted by you. I just wanted to make that point before you said anything about saving my life and whatnot."

She folded her arms around her and kept her mouth closed, though there was so much she wanted to say.

"Come here, closer," he urged suddenly.

"No," she said, guardedly.

"Please, I want to talk to you, and you're entirely too far away. I'm weak."

"You need blood, that's why you're weak, that other vampire said so," Hermione reasoned.

Regulus grinned. "Is that why you won't come closer? I won't take your vein; have no fear, Miss Granger."

"You're an injured vampire who needs blood, so I still say I'll stay over here, with my wand out and ready, thank you very much. Sanguini warned me about vampires in the midst of bloodlust. He said they often can't control themselves. Sanguini told me it sometimes takes centuries for a vampire to learn such control, and you haven't been a vampire for that long."

"How the hell would you know how long I've been a vampire? Likewise, how do you know Sanguini?" Regulus pushed the covers from his body, cursed a few times and planted his feet on the floor. "What would that fool know of bloodlust? Is that how you found me, from him? How do you know that idiot? Did he tell you where to find my coven? Did he send you to pester me? How like him. What a fool." He stood up and pointed toward the bedroom door.

He barked, "You can leave now. If you tell a soul where to find my coven, or anything about me or mine, I'll kill you, Miss Granger, of that you can be certain! Go back and tell Sanguini that I don't want him to send any other little chits my way, for if he does, I just might show him what true bloodlust is like, starting with him!"

When she didn't move from her chair he said, "Well, don't you want to leave?"

She stood up, her body close to his and said, "Yes, I'd like to leave, and I promise that I'll never tell a soul that you're alive or where to find you, but I swear on my own life that no one told me how to find your coven. I don't know how that happened, and as for Sanguini, he told me about vampires, but not really about you. I've known all about you forever."

He grabbed her upper arms and held them tightly, almost painfully. She wouldn't show fear, or pain, however. "How do you know of me? How did you know my name before?"

"Because I knew your brother, Sirius Black," she whispered. "He was a very important person to me."

He looked shocked. He removed his hands from her arms. She rubbed both arms, unconsciously. He thought she did it to wipe away the thought of a vampire touching her, though she actually did it out of instinct. He sat on the edge of his bed and said, "You knew my brother?"

Before she could answer, he called out to one of the other vampires. "CAIN! ABEL!"

The curly haired vampire ran into the room, but slid to a stop when he saw Hermione merely standing before Regulus who sat on the bed. "Yes, Black?"

"Fix a room for our guest. I've decided that she won't be going anywhere for a while."


	3. Chapter 3

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Part III**

Hermione had no choice as to whether or not she would stay or leave. She wasn't a visitor, because she wasn't invited to be here. She wasn't really a prisoner, even if she wasn't here by choice. In addition, she still had her wand, and she saw no bars on the windows of the beautiful bedchamber where Cain had led her to earlier. Escape was possible.

Still, there must be wards on the house, and protection spells, keeping people from entering, so they might keep her from exiting as well. She opened up the door and saw no guard outside. That was good as well. She could leave if she really set her mind to it. She had gotten out of worst scrapes than this; therefore, she wasn't worried – yet.

A knock on the door startled her slightly for she was standing directly in front of it. She jumped and called out, "Yes?"

"Miss Granger?" Cain opened the door a mere hairsbreadth and asked, "May I enter?"

"Do you need permission?" she asked in return, stepping away from the door. Sanguini had mentioned that it was another fable that vampires had to be permitted 'entrance' into a residence; however, perhaps he was wrong. Still, this was this man's coven, so surely he could enter any room at will.

He laughed and said, "Generally I ask before I enter a woman's bedroom." He opened the door wider and smiled at her. "Black wanted to know if you needed anything before you retired for the night. There are clothes in the closet and drawers that will probably fit you and the bathroom is well stocked."

"How long will I be here?" she asked, moving her wand from one hand to the other, nervously.

"I truly don't know," he declared, "and you won't be able to Disapparate. I let you keep your wand, but just remember, we're all wizards here, too. We have wands at the ready, incase you feel the need to hex one of us. I don't underestimate your abilities at all, being who you are, but you shouldn't underestimate ours either. We're faster and have keener senses than average wizards."

She nodded slightly, but then thought of what he had just said. "You know who I am? What do you mean by that?"

He laughed again and said, "We are the undead, not dead. We know you helped Harry Potter defeat Voldemort during the second war."

She didn't count on that, of course. "Well," he continued, "If there's nothing else, I'll leave you. Tomorrow you may have free reign to explore most of the house, if you'd like. Just stay out of the rooms on the second floor. The rooms up here are the private bedchambers, and the rooms on the first floor are the public rooms."

"And the rooms on the second floor?" she asked.

"Are to be left alone," he finished her thought. He walked further into the room. She took a step backwards. "Don't be afraid. I believe he'll let you go, eventually. He's just curious, because you mentioned his brother, and because you found out about him. He never thought anyone would ever know that he became a vampire. Tell me, did Sanguini tell you?"

"Oh no," she offered. "I had my own theories, and I went to him with my speculations. He confirmed them, yes, but he didn't betray any trust."

Cain laughed loudly and said, "There's no trust between Black and Sanguini, only hate and disdain."

"Why is that?" she asked.

"Perhaps he'll tell you someday," Cain answered, walking toward the door.

"Who? Sanguini or Regulus?"

"First, only call him Black. He left his other name behind when he became one of us. And I meant that Black would tell you someday. I doubt Sanguini would tell you anything."

"Sanguini's been very accommodating," she began, "and very helpful to me. He told me many things about vampires, and he told me some things about Regulus."

The formerly smiling vampire turned taciturn and said, "He had no right to tell you a thing. My advice would be to stay clear of Sanguini when you see him again, and don't believe anything he has to tell you. He's not to be trusted. He's a self-serving bastard, and those types of people make the worst sort of vampires."

Hermione folded her arms in front of her and she responded, "He's my friend and I would appreciate if you wouldn't talk about him like that. If you don't want me to ask Black questions, I won't. I'll ask you. Can you tell me anything useful about Black?"

"He's complicated, he's extremely private, he's a tortured soul, but most of all, he's my friend, and he saved my life a long time ago. Anything else you want to know you'll have to find out on your own." He left quickly, closing the door behind him.

Hermione sat on the bed and groaned. What had she gotten herself into this time?

* * *

Regulus stood staring out his bedroom window, contemplating the woman in the room across the hall. Hermione Granger, friend of his long-lost brother's godson, Harry Potter. She helped to defeat the Dark Lord. His forehead went against the cold glass. What was he to do with her?

Of course, he had heard of her. He had not idea, however, that this woman was she.

There was something almost otherworldly about this young woman. She was innocent, untainted, but strong and resigned. The aroma of her blood was almost intoxicating. It had been many years since an aroma had called to him as strongly as hers did. He wondered what it would feel like coursing through his body. Would she scream if he took her vein? Would she swoon in his arms, or would she find it erotic? He would have preferred her blood to Cain's blood tonight, but beggars couldn't be choosers, and he was in direr need earlier, and took his friend's blood so that he could be stronger. He needed strength right now. He had to deal with this woman, this Hermione Granger, and with the traitor Sanguini.

He thought of the strange, but lovely woman and tried to pinpoint what he felt for her, yet feelings and emotions were estranged from him for so long that he wondered just what it was that was twirling around his brain. Was it confusion? Was it anxiety? Was it bewilderment? Ennui? The only feelings he was acquainted with were depravity, disgust, and the feeling of being in a fog, a mind numbing stupor, for the last twenty years. He wasn't sure he wanted to FEEL anything else.

Something had him in its clutches and he didn't like it one iota. He didn't look forward to it, although he blamed himself for inviting it into his life. He alone confronted the woman tonight. He could have left her be. He could have let those other vampires kill her. He could have wiped her memory clean, or even let her leave as she was about to do. Instead, he was….curious, yes, that was the right emotion. He was curious about this beautiful, young woman and he wanted to know more about her, yet he didn't want her to know anything else about him. Sighing, he thought how very ironic life was.

* * *

Somehow, Hermione slept soundly. The next morning she showered and changed into some of the clothing she found in the wardrobe. There were only long dresses and dress robes, no jeans, trainers, or t-shirts, jumpers, sweatshirts, or skirts. She picked a plum coloured long sleeve dress, that had a tight fitting bodice, tight waist, and long flowing skirts that went to the floor. She found a pair of black beaded slippers and placed them on her feet. Feeling as if she was from another era, she glided down the long hallway, pausing for a moment outside HIS door. She knew he was in there. She sensed it.

After descending the two staircases, one small and one grand, she ended up on the main floor, in a wide-open foyer. There was an ornate chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, stained glass in the windows by the door, and a shining marble tiled floor. She gaped, wide-eyed, shocked at the luxury of the inside compared with the doom and dilapidated exterior of the outside.

The blond vampire, Abel, from the night before, descended the staircase after her and watched her as she stood in the middle of the entryway, staring at the opulent elegance. She noticed him, blushed, and said, "The house is beautiful."

His gaze traveled up and down her body and he drawled, "Yes, there are many beautiful things in this house. You, for example, look breathtaking this morning."

She looked down at the long gown she had donned and after swallowing hard, she replied with a small, "Thank you."

"I suppose you would like breakfast? I know your type needs to eat." He walked the rest of the way down the stairs with grace and agility. She stood her ground until he was standing beside her.

She answered, "I am feeling a bit hungry."

"That is a feeling I am well acquainted with, darling," he said with a smile. He leaned closer to her. She leaned away. This vampire made her feel uneasy. He took her hand and tucked it inside the crook of his arm and started to lead her down a hallway, when suddenly, she stopped walking, causing him to stop.

She stopped because an odd sensation, like a prickling feeling, starting at her neck and traveling down her spine to her toes, came upon her slowly. An innate awareness of Regulus Black washed over her and it prompted her to gaze upward toward the staircase. She saw only his shadow at first, as he had not yet reached the top step. Then he appeared. The blond vampire noticed him as well and swore under his breath.

Dressed all in black, from his head to his toes…black trousers, long black jacket, black silk shirt, black tie, black, black, BLACK. If Abel walked down the stairs in an elegant grace, Black walked down the stairs in a whispered poise. It was as if one moment he was at the top of the steps and the next he was standing beside them.

He said nothing. He merely offered his arm to her. Abel stepped away and she removed her arm from one man's sleeve and placed it on another. The silence between them caused her nerves to tingle. Without a word, he ushered her into a large dining room, but as soon as they entered he grabbed her arm in a vise-like grip, pushed her against the wall, pressed his body against hers, all before she could think to protest.

She thought to scream, but would it do any good? These people were loyal only to him, he apparently had an agenda today, and her eating wasn't on it. One of his hands snaked around her wrist and his other hand went to the back of her neck, grabbing her skull, fingers entwined in hair. His light blue eyes were lit afire and his shocking black hair hung partly in his face.

"Tell me why you're really here. What is your purpose!" he began.

"I thought I might have breakfast first, so if you would let me go, I'll try to explain. Over breakfast," she stammered.

He placed his nose near her cheek. "Would you like to be my breakfast?" He inhaled. Her scent was akin to nectar from the gods. She would be his undoing, he knew it the moment he saw her in the alleyway, and it was confirmed the second he inhaled her aroma. She began to quiver in his arms. Good. He repulsed her. She hated him. That was proper. That would serve a purpose. He remarked, "Poor little precious mouse, shaking with fear in the lion's den."

She _was _shaking, but it wasn't with fear. It was with a want and desire that she had never felt once in her twenty years of living on this planet. She was tempted to tell him as much, but she was embarrassed. "Let me go. Please."

"I don't respond to polite pleas, darling, precious mouse," he played, his mouth close to her ear, causing a rush of warmth from her stomach to between her thighs. "Am I hurting you? Repulsing you? Scaring you?" He wanted her to say no, but he needed her to say yes. He felt out of control. He felt hungry. Hungry for her.

"I'm not a mouse, and no matter what, I believe you're still a gentleman, and you're not scaring me, nor hurting me. I'll answer all your questions, but only if you answer mine." She tilted her head upwards and pushed his chest away from hers with both hands. He barely moved, though he did turn his head to stare into her eyes.

A manic laugh bubbled from his chest, but Hermione heard the sarcasm. "Gentleman? I was never a gentleman. I left home at 16 to become a Death Eater. At twenty, I betrayed the Dark Lord because I recognized him as the mad man that he truly was. I staged my own death, and I left to live my life quietly, where no one would know me." His grip loosened, but the hand that had her wrist traveled to her shoulder. She moved her hands from his chest to grip his arms.

"At twenty-one my new secret life was taken from me when I was turned into a vampire. Perpetually twenty-one, I've been forced to live in the shadows ever since. I dare not reveal myself, for fear of prison for my past sins, or fear of being rebuffed by the magical world that look down on vampires. Gentleman? I don't know the meaning of the word. I have no morals. No scruples or social grace. I have no manners. I have no feelings. I don't care if you live or die."

By the end of his speech, he was breathing hard and shallow. His hard frame pressed firmer against her soft body. His mouth was once again against her ear, his lips grazing the skin there with each word whispered. His arms wrapped neatly around her shaking body, only this time his hold wasn't hard or cruel, it was soft and comforting.

He concluded, "I wasn't able to help my brother. He died, not knowing that I loved him, forgave him, and that I looked up to him. I could have helped young Potter, and all of you, when you were fighting the Dark Lord, but I remained hidden. Don't make me into a saint, precious. I'm not. I'm not anything. I'm not even human any longer. I feel nothing for anyone. The only emotion I still harbor is anger and wrath. I have those in spades, my precious mouse, and I will use them to my advantage. Shall I show you?"

His mouth opened and his tongue swiped at the pulse point on the long column of her neck. Her legs felt like rubber. Her mind was a mass of swirling emotions, and she couldn't comprehend what was happening, or how she might escape, or even if she wanted to escape.

Finally, she managed to say, "That's not true. I know it's not. A person without feelings or morals or a sense of right or wrong wouldn't have been able to resist being a Death Eater. He wouldn't have fought against the Dark Lord."

His fangs grazed over her skin lightly. He wanted her. He wanted to bite her. He wanted her blood, her life force, her essence. He wanted an untainted soul to lift him from his tainted world. Who was this creature, and why was she here? Was she here to save him? He needed saving. He needed it more than her blood. Did she have the patience to save him? Patience was the virtue, wrath was the sin. She was the savior, and he needed saving.

He pulled back. It was difficult, but he did. He looked down at her face. She wasn't resisting, and not because she had a death wish, but because she truly believed he wouldn't hurt her. He sensed a wave of serenity and sincerity about her. He craved that more than he craved her blood. How odd.

Without blinking he said, "I want to know more of you, and you want to know more of me. I'll give you three days. You may ask me and mine any questions you want for three days, and we will answer you honestly, but you must also answer any question I ask of you. At the end of the three days, you will leave and never return. You will keep the information we give you completely to yourself, and you'll never tell anyone we're here. Do we have a deal?"

Hermione's heart skipped wildly in her chest. She wanted to ask him questions, and he was giving her carte blanche to do so, but at a price. She knew she should accept his terms, but still, her moral principles wouldn't allow it.

"Mr. Black, I don't want to keep my information to myself. I want to help the plight of the vampires. Sanguini made me see how hard it is for all of you. Please, don't make me promise that I won't share the information you give me. If you don't want me to tell anyone of you specifically, or of the location of this coven, I won't, but I can't keep the information to myself. It's not something I would be capable of doing." She had to be honest and truthful to the man.

His earlier assumption was right. There was something different about this girl. For one thing, she saved his life last night. For another, she was making demands of him. Lastly, he was going to give her anything that she asked.

"Fine, but for a price," he agreed, moving away from her, his arms dangling lifelessly at his sides.

She felt bereft when his body moved from hers. She shivered again, and then agreed, "Of course, as you said, you'll answer my questions, and I'll answer yours. I'll do you anything that you want, as long as you let me help you."

White teeth, fangs and all, suddenly appears on his handsome face as he smiled. How beautiful he appeared. Then he laughed.

This clean, untarnished woman didn't know that she had just struck a bargain with a man of sin and depravity. He suddenly imagined her in his bed, her brown curls hanging over her like a curtain, brushing against his chest, while he was inside her, and she on top of him. The image was so strong that he almost staggered. He laughed once more and said, "Oh dear, you are a naïve one. No, precious, I want more than questions answered. Much, much more. And you've just agreed to give it to me."


	4. Chapter 4

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Part IV:**

The rest of the day Hermione was allowed free entrée to the massive old mansion. Regulus left her alone to explore, though Cain found her after she wandered through the maze of rooms downstairs for several hours, and he finished conducting the tour with her, explaining that the house had belonged to one of Regulus' ancestors, and that it had been converted to their 'coven' almost ten years ago.

Hermione took notes, placing them carefully in a small red leather-bound journal that had once belonged to Regulus Black when he was a young man, and using a Muggle pen that had been given to her by her grandfather years ago. She asked Cain how he and his brother became vampires and he was forthright and honest. They went to school with Regulus, and years later, he turned them. Explaining that they were left to die after a Death Eater raid during the first war, their mother and father, both Muggle-born, had been killed and they would have died if Regulus hadn't come along hours later and 'saved' them by turning them.

"Then he's your maker?" she asked, awed.

"I suppose that's what that means, although I consider him my friend first and foremost," Cain answered. "He hadn't been a vampire very long at this time. It took concerted effort on his part to turn us, instead of killing us."

Hermione acknowledged that statement with a nod before she asked, "What are your real names?"

"David and Richard…I'm David. Black used to say that we fought like Cain and Abel, and that since we were the first two vampires he made, they were fitting names for us, because Cain and Abel were Adam's first children. He said that we should leave our human names behind us, because our lives were forever altered, and how right he was."

"Who turned him, do you know?" she inquired.

He was quiet for a moment, and then said, "He's never even told us, although if I knew, I wouldn't tell you. You'd have to ask him."

"Then it wasn't Sanguini?" she asked. She had assumed it was, from the passage that she had discovered in the very journal that she used to keep her notes, written when Regulus was young and still a Death Eater, and also from things that Sanguini had alluded to, but never admitted.

He expelled a sardonic laugh and said, "No, but there is bad blood, so to speak, between them, but that's Black's story, not mine."

"Fine. Why do you call this house a coven? Why not just call it your home?" She bit her lip and held her pen above her paper, to wait for his response.

Smiling, he said, "A coven means a group of wizards or witches, but for us, we call our home a coven because we've entered a covenant together by agreeing to live together. We've agreed to never tell another living soul where we live, or how to find us. We don't give away each other's secrets, and we protect each other, sort of like a family. It's covenant, or a sacred agreement, hence, a coven."

"Yet you're talking to me," she pointed out.

"Because Black told us to do so, and he's the head of our coven, rather like our father figure," he answered. "Otherwise, I would not. I find I like speaking to you, however. I haven't told anyone my secrets in a long time."

"Does that mean you never bring people here?" she asked.

"Any other questions?" he asked, as a means of avoiding that question.

She was smart enough to _know _he was avoiding her question, so she decided to ask another. "How many others are in this coven?"

"Are you asking if Black has changed others, or if other vampires merely live here with us?" Cain asked back.

She nodded and said, "I guess both."

"He's changed two others that I know of, but they don't live with us. Black allows others to come and go from here, for short periods of times, but only those he trust." Cain smiled and then asked her if she wanted to see the attic.

"How about the second floor?" she asked with a smile.

He smiled back and said, "How about, no."

She laughed at his teasing and allowed him to lead her all the way up to the attic. Cain told her more about Regulus than she suspected. He told her though he was an 'angry soul' that he rarely showed his anger. According to the other vampire, his moods ranged from cold and intense to caring and warm. He was private, arrogant, congenial, but forever hidden under a mood of bitterness and sarcasm. He also said there was no one else he trusted or liked more.

They spent several hours in the attic, talking, rummaging through antiques and Black family memorabilia. When they finished, they walked back down the stairs, and Cain said, "Black came from a pureblood family, and he's still haughty in many way, but he's eager, to the point of alacrity, to prove that he's not a bigot any longer. He's the most intelligent man I've ever met, and a talented wizard, but I think, well…"

She turned on the stairs to look up at the vampire. "What?"

Picking a stray cobweb from her mass of brown curls he revealed, "He's lonely, Miss Granger. He's sad. He's insecure in many ways. His anger has eaten away a part of his humanity. He would have you believe his vampirism is the cause for all of this, but his vampirism didn't take away his humanity, or his morality, or his empathy. They're still there, it's just it's all buried underneath his anger."

"Perhaps he's angry that he's a vampire," she remarked. She was given the impression, both from the journal entry that he made when he was young, and from Sanguini, that Regulus sought the life of a vampire, but Hermione was no longer that was certain.

They were almost to the first floor when Cain replied, "His anger came long before his vampirism." That cryptic response didn't answer her curiosity as to whether of not this was a life he wanted, or if it was thrust upon him.

They walked back into the sitting room and he offered her some tea. "It surprises me that you have such a well stocked kitchen, and house elves, seeing as you're vampires."

"Another myth, which I would have thought Sanguini would have already overturned. We do eat and drink food you know?" He handed a cup of tea to her.

She laughed and said, "Among other things."

He laughed as well and said, "Well of course, among other things."

"Are you answering all of her questions, Cain?" Black asked the other vampire as he walked into the large parlor of the old mansion. Hermione was sitting on one end of a refined sofa, Cain at the other. Regulus was standing in the hallway, waiting for a lull in the conversation to show himself, but when none was forthcoming, he walked through the archway from the hallway just as he heard her lilting laughter.

"Yes, he's answering my questions, and he even told me some funny stories today," she said as she folded the small red notebook and tucked it under her thigh. She placed the pen on the table by her teacup. He recognized the journal right away, even though he thought she took pains to conceal it.

"Funny stories?" Regulus asked, with skepticism. He threw his long body in a chair near the pair, crossed his legs and said, "Cain has no sense of humour, and he's never regaled a funny story to me in the twenty years that I've known him."

"Perhaps you're the one with no sense of humour and you merely don't think my stories are funny," Cain bit back with a smile. He turned back to Hermione and continued to talk to her. Regulus stopped listening and watched them instead. Hermione's eye lit up as the other vampire spoke. She asked questions, laughed at the appropriate spots, inhaled her breath at certain moments, smiled at others.

Regulus felt a wave of jealousy shoot through him. Cain was an affable fellow. He was in life, and he was in 'after life'. When he was living, he always had plenty of women swooning after him. The same could be said for his brother, Abel. Women used to flock to the blond man as if he was the only man alive, and now that he was no longer living, women still flocked to him.

Then there was Regulus. He was an awkward, socially inept teenage when he became a Death Eater. Sirius had all the charm. Sirius had all the friends. Though both considered handsome, Sirius was comfortable in his skin and Regulus was not. The one thing Sirius didn't have was his mother's favour, which was held exclusively for Regulus. Still, Regulus never had a way with women, due to his age, then he became a Death Eater and he didn't have time for women because he was serving the Dark Lord, and then he became a vampire shortly after that.

Leaning back in his chair he regarded the pair before him through half-closed eyes and thought about his experience with women. He had plenty of women after becoming a vampire. Women were drawn to him like bees to honey. He knew he was every bit as handsome as his older brother used to be, even if he was socially shyer, but now that he was 'undead', he could compel women to like him, desire him, and sleep with him.

The problem was that he hated that. He didn't want a woman to want him because they viewed him as dangerous, or to want him because they were compelled to want him due to his vampirism. He wanted a woman to want him for him, who he used to be, who he thought he still was inside, whoever that might be. He wanted a woman to laugh at his jokes, ask him question, gaze into his eyes, but all of that was taken from him. The only thing he had left was his anger, which he had in spades, and no woman wanted a man full of wrath and anger.

"Did you hear me, Black?" Cain asked.

Regulus looked up. "No. Were you speaking to me?"

Hermione and Cain laughed again. Cain turned to Hermione and said, "See, his mind is always on something else, just as I told you. I asked you if you would entertain our guest for a while, as I have other guests to look after on the second floor."

"Oh, oh, yes, of course." Regulus stood from his chair and pulled down his jacket to straighten the edge. He moved to the window and peered outside while Hermione remained on the sofa.

Cain left the room and Hermione asked, "What's on the second floor? Cain gave me a tour of the place, but last night and then again today, he told me to avoid the second floor."

Regulus looked over his shoulder and said, "Then I would avoid the second floor."

Hermione stood up, placed the leather-bound journal in the pocket of the long robes she wore, and walked toward the window. "It's only, usually people want you to avoid the basement, because it's spooky, or the attic, because they hide things in it." She tried to smile to show she was joking, as he was looking at her reflection in the window. She continued, "But the second floor is an odd place to avoid, when the ground floor is used for living space, and the third floor for sleeping."

He merely continued to stare at her in the glass. She stood beside him. She placed her hand on the window, right on top of his reflection, and said, "I see your reflection. Another myth Sanguini shattered for me - vampires do have reflections."

Quickly his hand covered hers on the cold, wavy, frosted glass of the parlor window. He turned her hand over and pulled her from the window, so she faced him. He peered at her hand. "You've not had your hand healed yet."

"Oh, that," she stuttered. "Well, I cleaned it well, and tried to heal it myself, but the wound was a bit worse than I thought." She felt awkward standing next to such a large, powerful man. He was so handsome that she felt overwhelmed. She thought about what Cain had told her, that Regulus was 'social backwards' and 'insecure' and she found that hard to believe, even though she wrote it down after he said it. At that moment, she was the one that felt inept. She lowered her head and stared at her hand, still held tightly, palm side up, in the powerful grip of his.

Still holding one hand, he used his other hand to reach inside her pocket for the red leather journal. He held it in front of her and asked, "What are you writing in this?"

Nervously, she answered, "Notes, about this place, and you and the others. I told you I would, but I won't reveal what I discover if you don't want me to do so. It helps me to remember things if I write them down, or write out my thoughts."

He could sense that he made her uncomfortable. He deliberately kept her hand in his and opened the small book with his other. "I used to keep a journal, when I was young. It looked a great deal like this."

"I know, I read it," she responded, "and this is your journal."

That admission didn't seem to shock him. He had already assumed as much. Dropping her hand, he used both hands to hold her book open so he could read. She reached for it and said, "Please, give it back to me."

"No, you read it when it was my book, I'll read it now that it's yours," he replied. He snaked a hand around her waist, not wanting her to escape, and backed up against the window seat by the large window. He pulled her down next to him, his arm still around her, and the small journal opened on his knee. She was shaking and breathing hard. He wondered if it was his closeness that was affecting her. He didn't care. He moved his arm from around her waist and held her hand again, and read from her book.

When he got to one part he asked, "What did you mean by this section?"

She looked at the written word, then up at his face. "I think you know."

"Is that how you see me? You think I'm some sad, pathetic creature who's insecure and has nothing but his anger to keep him occupied?" He snapped the book shut and thrust it in her lap, even as he let go of her hand.

"That's not quite what I wrote," Hermione said softly. If he had continued to read, he would have read that she had written that she had thought she had fallen in love with him before she had even met him.

"Why aren't you married?" he suddenly asked. That question startled her and she started to stand. He pulled on her arm, forcing her to remain by his side.

"There is someone at home," she offered. "A boy I went to school with, and who fought with Harry and I against Voldemort."

Regulus felt some of his anger disappear, though it was once again replaced by jealousy. He held her hand softly, his thumb caressing the center. "What's his name?"

"Ron Weasley."

"Are you going to marry this Ron Weasley?" He wanted to ask if she loved him, but he didn't. Regulus turned her palm over and examined her hand. The cut in the middle was red and raw, the scratch jagged and barely healed.

"Maybe, but I doubt it," she answered. "He wants to marry me."

"He's a fool," Regulus suddenly said.

Hermione looked up. "For wanting to marry me?"

He stood. "How can he allow you to run about the city, chasing after vampires? Isn't he even concerned for you? You've been missing overnight, so why isn't he searching for you?" Regulus was shouting, pacing back and forth in front of her. Didn't she see how much danger she was in? He could have killed her by now! Those other vampires wanted to kill her yesterday! "WHY ARE YOU HERE?" he finally bellowed. "What do you want from me?"

Hermione felt something akin to fear. The vampire before her scared her. He was angry, and he showed it. He made her nervous. She felt hot, cold and bothered. She wanted nothing more than to flee, so she stood to do just that, but once again, he reached out for her, with his cat-like agility, and pulled her to him. Her slender wrist was trapped in his tight grasp, the feel of her pulse beating under his thumb reminded her what he was, what he wanted from her, but what she could never give. She could never give him back the life he had before Voldemort, or before becoming a vampire.

Wanting her even closer, closer still, he wrapped his arms around her and demanded, "Tell me what you want from me!"

She felt hot tears burn her eyes, but she didn't want to shed them. He wouldn't understand. No one would understand. She didn't even know if she understood. How could she tell him that she fell in love with a shadow of a boy from the things he wrote in a journal from a time so long ago? She finally glanced up at him, but in that brief moment his anger disappeared. His hand went to her mass of curls, his fingers threading through the chestnut locks. She heaved a heavy sigh and said, "Please." She didn't know what she meant by that plea, and neither did he.

Regulus reached for her cheek. His fingertips glided down her soft skin to the beating pulse of her neck. A tremor reigned through him at the steady throb of her vein. Her skin was pale, luminous, her mouth full. What would her lips feel like against his? What would her pulse feel like under his mouth? She seemed good, sweet, like a fragrant ripe, piece of fruit. Forbidden, like the apple was to Eve. There was an inherent sweetness to her, more than her scent. He had to have her, on every level, to appease his wrath, more than to sate his appetite.

An errant tear drifted from her eye. He brushed it aside with the side of his index finger, and then placed a lingering kiss on her cheek. Heaven help her, he wasn't a saint, he was a tortured soul, and he wanted her and would have her. He placed his mouth right above hers.

His hands felt warm and right on her body. For once in her life she was going to throw caution to the wind and give into the feelings before her. She would answer his question, the only way she knew how. What did she want from him? She would show him. She rose on her toes and closed the distance before them, placing her lips on top of his before she said, "I want you."


	5. Chapter 5

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Part V:**

Regulus' hands were warm and steady on her body. He asked her what she wanted from him. He almost seemed desperate for her response. She was just as desperate to answer. Rising on her toes, she moved closer to him, placed her lips lightly on his for a fraction of a second and then leaning away, she answered, "I want you."

She said, _"I want you,"_ when he asked her what she wanted. That answer angered him. His hands, which were firmly on her body, dropped away when she made that mad declaration. She didn't even know him, not the real him, yet she claimed to want him.

She was everything sweet and tempting, right at his fingertips, but she didn't have a clue as to what she had just admitted to him. He wouldn't be toyed with. He wouldn't be played or made to be a fool. Here was yet another woman whose head was turned by the prospect of being with a vampire, or perhaps she liked the prospect that he had once been a Death Eater. It was hard to tell, but he was having none of it.

For once in his life he wished someone would want him for what was inside. For once he wished someone would want to know the man he had started to be, not the man he had become. Not the Death Eater. Not the Vampire. Not the man full of hate and rage.

He used women, women like her, for pleasure, for food, as objects for sex and desire. They used him, too. She was no different from the rest. He wanted her to be different, yet she was the same.

"You want me?" he asked maliciously, reaching out with his fingers, holding her hair, then letting his fingers grip tightly around each shoulder. "Why? I would do more than kiss you, you know. You're pure. Untainted. Unused. Pristine. I can smell it on you. I would take all that was holy and make it black and ugly. I would fill you with my anger. Is that what you want? Is that what you crave? Does the good girl want a taste of the bad boy? Does the hero want to reform the Death Eater? Do you want to tame the monster inside of me?"

He wanted to punish her…push her away and make her pay for playing with his emotions. Instead, he crushed her to his chest, with nimble fingers tilted her head back, and with more force than was necessary, he held her head, one hand laced in her hair, one arm around her waist, and he dragged his fangs across the long column of her neck. "Is this what you want?" He let one fang pierce the ivory translucent skin. A small pinprick of crimson came to the surface and formed a perfect drop of blood on her flawless white skin.

She seemed paralyzed with fear. He knew she would be. He fed on people's fears. She was no different. He continued to taunt her. "Moan for me, good girl," he leered crudely. "I'll sink my teeth deep inside and then we can have a good fuck and I'll send you on your way and you can tell everyone that you were with a vampire."

He hated her almost as much as he hated himself, anger for her seeping out of every pore.

She was no longer passive in his arms. She began to push him away, scrape at him, although her attempts were feeble, as her strength was nothing compared to his. He was about to bite down when he heard her shaking voice say, "I meant…I meant that I wanted the Regulus from the journal. The one I read about. I don't want this. What makes you think I want this? Let me go! Please! I demand you let me go!" She clawed at him, tried to shove him away, tears rushing down her face. "I wanted to know the man who helped Harry and Ron and I defeat Voldemort," she added as his breathing became more erratic, his mouth finally closing, but his grip just as tight.

He couldn't see her face, but he imagined that she must look terrified and he didn't want to see that. Not on her. She was so soft. So fragile. Her skin tasted so good, a hint of salt and innocence. He turned his face toward hers, her lashes closed down over her eyes and another tear leaked from the edge.

Her tears broke him.

He was an animal.

He tucked her head softly into his shoulder, unwound his fingers from her head, and massaged her scalp, while rubbing circles on her back with the hand that was around her waist. "That man doesn't exist any longer. Regulus Black died twenty years ago, when he was only twenty years old. I may still look like that twenty-year-old man, but I feel so old and used. I'm not him. One look behind the doors on the second floor and you would know that I'm no longer that man. One look at the debauchery and horrors that happen there and you'd know that I'm a monster. No, no one wants to know me." He wanted to add an, "I'm sorry," but he wouldn't. He couldn't.

"This was such a mistake," she said, and he couldn't agree more. She finally pushed away from him. They stared at each other for long moments, neither speaking. She stopped crying and said, "I shouldn't have come, perhaps that's true. Perhaps that man, that boy, isn't alive inside you any longer, because you've lived a vastly different life since then, but I still want to know the real you. The monster you claim to be isn't the real you! It can't be. I've read that journal, and it was like reading what was inside your soul! I've read your deepest, darkest thoughts and regrets! Becoming a vampire doesn't change who you are. It doesn't change your heart and soul!"

"NO!" he shouted, and again, another, "NO!" He turned to stride away from her. He stopped at the doorway and said, "The real me would send you to bedlam and back, dear girl. You need to run away from here. Go find your young man, the Weasley boy. Marry him. Have a family. Have a life. I can't give you anything but pain and misery and death. It's all I know. It's all I crave. It's what's in my heart and soul now!"

She watched him go, unsure why he refused to acknowledge that his affliction didn't make him what he was, it was only a small part of him. What did he think she wanted with him? Why didn't he trust her? She wouldn't push him. She would show him kindness and patience and make him come to her.

Because she loved the man that he once was, but she lusted after the man that he had become.

She ran up to the second floor. She stood at the landing of the stairs that went to the next flight of stairs and instead of heading up them, she turned down the hallway to her left. There were three hallways off this landing, one in front of her, a left wing, and a right one. She wanted to know what was hidden behind the doors on the second floor, and she wanted to know now. If he thought that whatever was behind these doors would convince her that he was the monster, not the man, then she wanted to know what was behind them.

She walked slowly down the hallway to the left. There was almost no light. The deeper she walked into the long hallway, the darker into the abyss she felt she entered. She could make out the white paneled doors to each side of her. Old gas lamps on each side of the walls, made of brass, were nothing more than ornamental, for they didn't flicker with anything resembling light. She saw no shadow, no shapes, and no form.

She went to the first door and with a shaking hand, reached for the door handle. She started to turn the knob. She had to see for herself what was behind these doors. What made him the monster that he claimed to be? Then she screamed.

Someone came up behind her, pulled her by the waist, and rushed her with all haste up the stairs to the third floor. A hand was placed over her mouth, to muffle the sound. Her feet left the floor. The hallway here was narrower, the walls darker, but the gas lamps on the walls were lit, and there were windows at the ends of the hallway that afforded some of the light from the fading sun.

Pushed into the room she had slept in the night before, the one across from his, and pressed against a wall, she felt her interloper's chest against her back. "So fresh, so innocent, so sneaky. You were told not to go into the rooms on the second floor I believe. Do you know what happens to bad little girls who misbehave?"

That voice. It belonged to the blond vampire, Abel. In a sotto voice he said, "Shall I show you what goes on in the rooms on the second floor? Would you still think Black a saint if you knew the depravity that happens right here, a mere floor below you? Shall I take you downstairs and show you how real vampires treat little trinkets like you?"

"ABEL!" A voice behind him, demanding, yet questioning, scared Hermione almost as much as the man holding her. She shook and her stomach lurched to her feet as the blond vampire turned her from the wall, still holding her tight, and a menacing Regulus Black stood by the door. "Let her go."

"Your new pet was about to enter a room on the second floor. Why don't we just get it over with and show her what goes on in those rooms?" he asked. "You want to repulse her? I think that would do it." His right arm held fast around her body, his left arm petted her arm, her shoulder, her hair. She felt sick from his touch. She reached in her pocket for her wand but touched the journal first. Lifting it from her pocket, she let it drop to the floor, though neither man seemed to notice. Then she reached inside for her wand.

"I believe she is about to curse you if you don't let her go right now," Regulus said, no longer with urgency. He leaned against the opened doorframe. "I would suggest you let her go, or face her precious wrath, which might just rival my own." With ease and grace, Regulus bent at the waist, picked up the red, leather-bound journal from the floor, and placed it on the dresser beside him.

"Is that an order?" Abel asked with a wicked grin.

"Since when have I ever ordered you to do anything?" Regulus asked. "Another myth, which I'm sure Sanguini already dispelled for our young guest, is that I know, as well as you do, that you don't have to obey me merely because I'm your maker."

"No, but he does have to obey me when I have a wand pointed at his groin," Hermione said with a ragged voice. She pointed her wand downward and pressed it against the other man's body.

"That doesn't sound pleasant, Abel old man," Regulus said with a hint of sarcasm. "I think I'd let her go."

Hermione had a feeling Abel released her more so because of the menacing look and commanding way Regulus told him to let her go, than because she had a wand pointed between his legs. Either way, she was happy when the weight of his arm left her waist to leave her sagging against the wall.

"Come to me, Hermione." Regulus held out a hand. She tried to walk to him, but her knees wobbled and her legs shook.

She watched as Abel snuck off like a shadow, out of her room and down the hall. Yet relief would not show itself. She felt oppressed and angry by the other man's intrusion. Regulus stepped closer still, held out his hand and beckoned to her. "Come. I'll not harm you. I find that I want you as much as you apparently want me. No one will hurt you now."

She shook her head, an infinitesimal amount, and said, "I no longer want you. I just want to go home." She walked past him as he stood by the door and started out of it.

He closed the gap between them, took her in his arms, pulled her back into the room, gave the door a shove closed, and with his breath warm and sweet against her cheek, his chest against her back, he said, "I can't let you go now."

Hermione's eyes grew wide and she reared back, panic filling every fiber and molecule. He was right earlier. The man, the boy, who wrote in that journal, who took on the Dark Lord, all by himself, was long dead. She didn't know the man before her. His arms went deftly around her waist, one hand on the back of her neck, and his voice spoke softly in her ear.

"I want to believe you. I want to believe that someone could possibly think of me as something more than Black, the vampire. Are you that someone, Hermione?" Each word was a puff of air, moving her hair, fanning her face, fueling her want and desires. He kissed her cheek, which shocked her. The gentleness was overwhelming. When his lips went to her neck she froze, until she felt only the softest hint of lips, no teeth, no fangs, no pain.

Slowly she relaxed. A sweet languid honesty was in each of his kisses and it made her forget her world outside. The world where she was surely missed. It made her forget the man who scared her earlier in the parlor downstairs. It made her forget all of the things she could only imagine were happening behind closed doors on the second floor.

His lips tempted away her inhibitions. Turning in his arms, she clung to his shoulders, pulling herself closer so that her breasts pressed against his chest. She felt the hardness of his groin on her hip. And when his fangs scraped the tender, vulnerable flesh of her neck, she gasped, then let her head drop back, reassured that this was alright. This was still the man from the journal. This was the man she had looked for, for so long, and had finally found.

He eased her to the bed, his lips covering her face, neck and shoulders. The long, beautiful gown was soon peeled away. He willed the lights in the room to extinguish, so the glow of the moon was the only light upon her ivory skin. He seemed fascinated with the shape and roundness of her breasts. Lifting his head from her face, he stared at her chest while his hands went smoothly around each globe, down the center of her chest, then skimming his knuckles around the outside.

She reached for his face with one hand and cupped his cheek. Smiling at her, he looked into her eyes, at first shocked at what he saw. He saw genuine caring. He saw a woman who wanted nothing more from him than to care for him…Regulus Black. It was an odd feeling. He kissed her mouth deeply for the first time. He drank from her mouth, his tongue dancing with hers. She was sweeter than wine, her inherent taste sweeter than any blood he had ever had.

He moved his hands as he moved his lips, down to one rosy tipped breast. Licking her until she whimpered and pleaded with him, her hands in his hair, her body moving under his, he flattened his tongue on it, then moved to the other, and then he sucked.

She arched upwards, moaning, pushing her chest into his face, pulling his head closer. She wanted more; she wanted it all, until she was crushed underneath him, him buried deep inside. She was a virgin, but it didn't matter. She knew what she wanted. She wanted and needed him as much as he wanted and needed blood.

He would surrender everything to her, and it would feel better than he could imagine. He had waited so long for a real release of all his anger and pain. He always assumed that the only way to rid himself of his anger and pain was with MORE anger and pain. Who knew it only took acceptance, love, and patience, from a mere slip of a witch who fell in love with a man from things he wrote in a journal, from when he was a boy, so long ago.

He would give up his wrath for her. No more empty nights. No more endless days. No more torment and pain. No more empty pleasures of the flesh disguised as love. This woman was delicate, flawless, perfection, and she was his.

He kissed his way up her chest, back around her jaw, as she kissed his cheeks and forehead. He looked into her eyes and said, "How did you know that I needed this? How did you know that I needed you in my life?"

"I know everything about you. I told you. I fell in love with you before I met you, from your journal," she replied.

Suddenly, a frightening expression schooled his features and he stopped. He moved slightly away from her, his hand on her bare stomach. Every muscle in his body trembled as he willed himself still. Here was everything he ever wanted, but it wasn't enough. He wasn't enough. Why did she have to keep mentioning that journal? She read more into that journal than she should have. He could never live up to the man she wanted him to be.

And he knew that she knew it, because for some reason, she was on the verge of tears, and when a tear fell down her cheek, to the pillow, he caught it with the end of his finger. He looked at it for many long seconds before he placed his finger in his mouth. Yes…her taste was all that he expected and more.

This wasn't right! He wasn't right. She was beautiful…he was scarred and ugly. She was goodness and light. He was dark, unholy and evil.

His silence, and the questioning look in his eyes, along with the weight of his body still pressed against her, stilled her. "What's wrong?" she asked.

If he still had a beating heart, he would tell her every secret within it, but all he could do was sit up, push away from her, and then heave himself from the bed. Without looking at her he said, "You disgust me." Every word was directed to her, but he said it about himself. "You make me sick. You'll never be good enough."

He refused to look her way. "GO! LEAVE ME!" he bellowed.

"No, I won't go. What's wrong?" she begged. Confused, she moved quickly from the bed, placing the gown over her arms and body, and when she walked behind him, to ask him what he meant, he moved with grace and agility out of the room, closing the door behind him. She went to the door and tried the handle. He had locked it from the other side.

She looked for her wand. It was gone.

Out in the hallway, on the other side of the door, he said, "This is for the best, Hermione Granger. I want to be the man you want me to be, but I'll always be the monster, full of anger, who only wants you for your blood. You'll stay in there until the morning, and in the morning Cain will escort you home. You are never to return. You'll never tell a soul you found me. You will forget about me."

She banged on the door with both fists. "You can't make me forget about you!" she shouted. "I won't forget! If nothing else, I'll always have the memories from the journal!"

Suddenly, she looked at the dresser, for the journal.

He had taken that along with her wand.

She slipped to the floor by the door, and cried.


	6. Chapter 6

**All characters belong to JKR**

_From the last chapter:_

_She looked for her wand. It was gone._

_Out in the hallway, on the other side of the door, he said, "This is for the best, Hermione Granger. I want to be the man you want me to be, but I'll always be the monster, full of anger, who only wants you for your blood. You'll stay in there until the morning, and in the morning Cain will escort you home. You are never to return. You'll never tell a soul you found me. You will forget about me."_

_She banged on the door with both fists. "You can't make me forget about you!" she shouted. "I won't forget! If nothing else, I'll always have the memories from the journal!"_

_Suddenly, she looked at the dresser, for the journal._

_He had taken that along with her wand._

_She slipped to the floor by the door, and cried._

**Part VI:**

Hermione knew the minute she set foot over the threshold of this Coven the night before, and even after spending a second night here, that there was nothing natural about this place, especially when she thought of what might be taking place on the second floor. Sanguini warned her that she might not find what she would hope to find here. He said that most vampires retained very little of their humanity. He told her that Regulus Black wouldn't want her here, yet she came anyway.

She cursed that fact that she found Regulus' journal in the first place. She cursed the fact that she romanticized the _man that was_ into _the man that apparently was never going to be again_. Most of all, she cursed the fact that she had foolishly given up _'real love'_, tangible love, with Ron, to seek an '_unattainable love'_ with a man who claimed he was now a monster.

Lastly, she cursed her morbid curiosity for coming here, and for seeking out Sanguini, who told her of this place. She knew that the time for regret was over; it was time for action. Hermione Granger was nobody's fool. She wasn't weak. She was smart and resourceful and she had to go home! However, she had to show the utmost patience, because she couldn't get home by herself. She couldn't even leave this room because she didn't even have her wand.

She had no real inclination as to the time. She might have been crying on the floor all night or perhaps only a few hours. Regulus told her that she disgusted him, but then from the other side of the door, he said that he couldn't be the man that she wanted him to be. He took his journal and her wand, and left her alone. Yet twice during the night, she heard footsteps on the other side of the door, as if someone was monitoring her.

The door was locked, so she was a prisoner, but somehow she felt if she tried to escape, she would be able to do so.

One thing was certain: Regulus Black, the young man, the former Death Eater, once so full of wrath and hate at the Dark Lord, was no longer that man. He told her he was a monster. She was beginning to believe him. Sanguini's warning was true – Regulus Black was no longer the man from his journals. He was no longer a man at all, in any way, shape or form.

She had slipped out of the long gown and back into her clothes a few hours ago, after finding her clothing at the bottom of the wardrobe. Now that all tears were gone, and the weariness that had crept upon her slowly during the night had disappeared, she felt a renewed vigor and was eager to find a way to escape this madhouse and go home. She would go back to Ron. He still wanted to marry her. It may not be the life she envisioned for herself, but it was comfortable, safe and real. It was familiar. She would go back to all things familiar.

Finding fortitude she didn't know she possessed, she went to the windows and threw the curtains aside for at least the fifth time. Each time she came to the windows, she looked for a way to escape, and each time she deemed escape impossible. The windows were locked with key locks on the inside, and had iron bars on the outside. It was odd that the bars would be on the outside. Were they to keep people in the house? Usually bars were meant to keep people out, not in.

Both windows of this room were large, and the room faced another brick building. Hermione pressed her cheek to the glass and tried to look at the sky above. It was gray, which only meant it was either dawn or evening. She truly had lost all sense of time. Pressing her face to the glass again, she tried to peer down below. She was three stories high. Even if she managed to open the windows, would she die from a jump this high?

Finally, frustrated from lack of sleep, and from her general confusion at the events that occurred with Regulus, she picked up a chair and with all her might, swung it toward the windows, screaming as loud as she could as the wood encountered the glass. The legs of the chair splintered, glass shattered everywhere, but the bars on the outside remained steadfast and unmoving. Hermione stepped closer to the window, using her bare hands to knock aside what was left of the glass and wooden windowpanes. She gripped the iron bars with both hands and screamed as loud as she could, in aggravation, anger, and fear.

She wanted to leave this place, right now!

There was the sound of footsteps – several – outside her door, then the sound of a key in the lock. The door opened. She turned quickly to face her subjugators. As she turned, her hand slid from one of the outside bars, down an angled piece of glass. The shard of glass sliced her hand open from her palm to her wrist. It was the exact same hand that she had lacerated in the alley the night she saved him.

She clenched her fist, staring at Regulus, Cain and Abel as they all stood in her doorway, staring back at her.

"What's going on in here?" Regulus demanded.

Breathing hard, she said, "Let me out of here. I want to go home."

Standing behind Black's left shoulder, the blond vampire said, "She knows too much, Black. We can't let her go. She will tell others how to find us."

Behind his right shoulder, the dark haired vampire said, "We still need to find out how she found us. Did Sanguini reveal more than we suspect? Did she follow him here, or did he bring her here himself? I agree with my brother, we can't let her go, not until we know more."

Regulus ignored them both, stepped forward and inhaled deeply. "You're bleeding," he said softly.

"The window," she offered. "It broke, or rather, I broke it, but that's beside the point. I demand you let me go! I want to go home. You can't keep me here. Sanguini didn't tell me how to find this place, I swear. I found it on my own, and I'll not tell a soul I was here, but the longer you keep me here, the more suspicious my friends will become." She held her lacerated hand with her other hand.

He stepped closer. "Is that the same hand you cut in the alleyway?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered. "What does it matter?"

He closed his eyes and inhaled deeper. Before he knew it, the blond vampire stepped around him and closer to her. "Let me have her, Black. She smells so good."

"No, I want her," Abel argued from the other side. Hermione hadn't thought to fear the darker vampire before, but the expression on his face at that moment was terrifying. It was bloodlust, pure and simple.

Suddenly, a hand clamped over her mouth and the weight of someone pressed her against a wall, practically forcing all of the air from her lungs. Frantically, she tried to fight off the person she recognized as Cain, as she noticed Abel and Black fighting in the middle of the room.

Hands groped at her clothing, tearing her shirt collar down. Her hand was brought up to the blond vampire's mouth and he placed it inside, his sharp fangs piercing the tender flesh. She screamed so loudly that she almost choked on her own cries.

In the corner of the room, she was vaguely aware of a snarling sound, of growling, almost as if wild beasts were in the room. She saw what she could only assume were two men rolling around on the floor, struggling, fighting.

The vampire who held her let go of her hand and repositioned her. She let out a whimper but continued to fight, though she felt weak and dazed. She noticed blood streaming from her hand as the vampire held her back to his chest, moved her hair aside, and his fangs skimmed against her neck.

She thought she was going to die.

As suddenly as it all began, it ended. She sank to the floor, opened her eyes, and realized she was alone in the room with Black. He walked away from the door after having barred it with a spell from his wand. He dropped down to look at her on the floor. She clutched at her neck.

"Are they gone?" she asked, still dazed.

"Yes."

"Did you fight them both?"

"Yes." His face was blank, expressionless, and she began to tremble. When he saw her so weak, so helpless on the floor, he knew it was his fault and he cringed. He scooped her into his arms, tenderly, effortlessly, and carried her over to the bed. He sat down with her on his lap.

She still had one hand on her neck. With a gentleness that he didn't know he possessed, he removed her fingers, one by one, then lifted her hand and placed it in her lap. He said, "It's not so bad." He placed his thumb in his mouth, licked it with his tongue, and then with his wet finger, he rubbed over the two puncture wounds to heal them.

She lay so still against his chest, eyes closed, that at first he wondered if she had passed out. He lifted her hand, and though he didn't want to disgust her, he knew he could heal it better with his saliva than with his wand. He placed her hand to his mouth.

He watched the door as he did. No one dare to come in and challenge him again. They would know better. He would never give her up now. Never. Lost in his thoughts of rage and possession, he didn't realize she was sobbing until he finally released her hand and glanced back down at her face. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, quietly. With care, he brought his hand to her cheek to brush away the tears and asked, "Are you hurt? Are you okay?"

She shook her head no. Did that mean, 'no, she wasn't okay', or 'no, she wasn't hurt'? He wouldn't ask her to explain, because she was finally starting to relax against his chest. He noticed that he was rubbing his free hand up and down her arms, over her shoulder, to her face and hair. The other hand was splayed across her hip and back, holding her up to him closely. He moved this hand up her side so that it was under her arm. His thumb rubbed the side of her breast. She closed her eyes again.

He moved his head down and kissed her closed eyes. She opened them just as he brushed his lips across her mouth for another gentle kiss. "Why did you really come here, Hermione Granger?"

"The truth?" she asked.

He nodded.

"In a way, I don't know," she said hoarsely. She placed her head in the crook of his neck and continued. "I've been so restless. I've wanted something more for so long, but I didn't know what. I want to help those who can't help themselves, but I can't do that in my present life. I don't want the safety and security of being Ron's wife, and Harry's friend, and having a tidy little job at the Ministry."

"Also, I know you don't want to hear this, but I really did fall in love with the man from those journals, even if he no longer exists."

"How did you come to find Sanguini?" He rocked her back and forth as he asked his questions.

"I remembered him from a Christmas party at Hogwarts. Something in your journal led me to believe that you were going to seek him out after you tried to find the locket Horcrux, and that you were going to try to defeat the final death, much like Voldemort did, but that you were going to do it by becoming a vampire."

Black replied, "I was so young. I thought I could defeat the Dark Lord, but I knew I couldn't. I had to have him believe I was dead, and in many ways, I really had to die, so I did seek out the vampire, Sanguini. The vampires were the only creatures that refused to follow the Dark Lord, although one would think they would be perfect minions for him. However, they follow no one. They don't care about blood purity. They only care that blood is red."

She looked up at him and he smiled. She thought he looked so handsome, so altered, when he smiled. Softer. Human.

"I told him what I was planning to do, and I told him that I wanted to become like him after I did it, and he actually tried to persuade me otherwise, but I wouldn't be swayed. He didn't change me himself. He said he couldn't live with himself if he did, so he had someone else do it. It was the most painful thing I had ever gone through."

"Afterward, I felt more rage and wrath than I did as a human being, because my hatred for the Dark Lord and all that he had made us do, and all that he stood for was still there, but now I was consumed with bloodlust. I was no longer human. I regretted my decision immediately. It would have been better to die, I thought, than live in this walking death, but I had made my choice, and I kept my secret, as did others. The Dark Lord never found me. Everyone, including my own brother, assumed I died. In many ways, I did."

Hermione reached up with her hand, the hand he had just healed, and touched his cheek softly. "But you're not dead. You're here, and you've not lost your humanity. Why would you even think that? You're still a man to me. You're still capable of loving and living, perhaps differently, but it's still living, just the same. You're not dead. You're alive. Very alive. If you were dead, I couldn't touch you, talk to you, and want you so very much."

He closed his eyes and leaned into her hand. His hand came up and sank into her soft hair. Finally, he cradled her face in his large hands, moved so they were both lying on the bed, and swept his hands down her sides, lingering on her breasts, then her stomach and hips.

He watched the trembling pulse in her neck. How easy it would be to take her blood. He wanted to. He knew she tasted sweet. Nevertheless, she had faith in him, in which no one else had ever had, and he wanted to be a good person, alive and good, a man, for her. He started to undress her and passively, she let him.

Cain had already torn at her clothing so they practically hung on her anyway. He removed the remains of her top and jeans. Sinking to his knees beside her, he placed his hands on her breasts and rubbed the middles until he saw the dimples of her nipples through the thin material of her bra. He leaned down and kissed her cleavage, and she moved slightly underneath him, and placed her hands upon his arms.

He reached for her shoulders and removed her straps, pulling the bra down slowly. His gaze never left her body; her gaze never left his eyes. He looked overwhelmed and consumed, but she knew he was showing ultimate restraint. Just as slowly, his hands roamed down her flat stomach to her hips, and removed her knickers. She was breathing hard with anticipation and want.

He was clenching his jaw, trying to reign in the monster and show her the man. His fingers continued down her legs, behind her knees, to her calves, then back up her thighs on the outside, the tops, his thumbs easing closer to her apex.

He sat back and drew his coat and shirt off, and she watched as if she was hypnotized. He was so beautiful, breathtaking, really. She smiled at him but he didn't return her smile. He stood from the bed and removed his trousers with infinite care, and again she watched, almost in wonder. His legs were long and muscular. He wore nothing under his trousers; he was standing naked in front of her. She gazed upon him, and again she smiled.

This time, he couldn't help it - he smiled back. Who was this woman? He was going to love every minute of this. He had to be careful. He had to go slow. He couldn't frighten her. He couldn't give into bloodlust. This had to be a man loving a woman, and no more. No more.

He wasn't sure he remembered how to make love as a man, but for her, he would try. He would strive for self-control and tenderness. He moved with catlike grace back up the bed, his body skimming hers, skin on skin. His lips kissed her knee, her leg, the inside of her thigh, her pelvis, and her stomach. He placed both hands around her stomach and kissed it again and again, before moving up to her breasts.

She flinched slightly and closed her eyes again. He begged her to open them, begged her not to be afraid of him, but only in his mind. As if she could read his mind, she opened her eyes. He kept her gaze as he kissed around the gentle slope of one breast. It was so soft and luscious. He lifted his head and said, "I won't hurt you, you know. I promise."

"I know, I trust you," she returned.

"You shouldn't," he said with a half smile.

She returned his smile and said, "That remains to be seen." She stroked his face, as it rested practically on her bare breast, and he turned into her hand and kissed the middle of her palm. Then he turned back to her breast, lifted it with his hand, and rounded the center with his thumb, before he did the same with his tongue.

The instant his tongue touched her nipple she arched her back and almost sprang up from the bed. He did the same to the other breast, and soon he was sucking, kissing and nibbling while his hand moved all around her lower body, not yet touching the place she most wished to be touched.

"Please," she moaned softly.

He understood and placed his hand between her thighs, cupping her softly, as his mouth came up to hers to kiss her passionately. His hand played with her, two fingers entering and parting her with extreme care, pressing, rubbing, circling, grasping, breathing, shouting, shuddering, coming undone… yes.

Hermione came strongly from nothing but his hand and his kisses. As she was in the middle of her orgasm, he climbed on top, nudged her legs apart with his own, and carefully placed himself at her opening.

"Is this what you want?" he asked.

"More than anything," she replied.

He pushed inside so slowly she thought she would die from want. She cried out, he groaned, until they were finally completely joined. He held her to him, immersed in her tight warmth. He wanted to sink his teeth in her. Ever since he had become a vampire, he had always taken blood when he had sex. Always. It was as if he couldn't complete the act unless he did both. They were two halves of a whole. He felt her breath on his shoulder, felt her delicate hands move up and down his back, and he let the blood lust wash away, and let the passion overtake him.

Then he knew he could continue one without the other. He pushed against her, a gentle slide, push and release, an easy rhythm, nothing hard, nothing violent, no anger, no wrath, no pain. Even as his instinct told him to take her hard and savagely, to cause pain, he was able to tamp that instinct down because he felt so good wrapped in her arms, in her warmness, in her body.

She clenched around him and his head dropped to her shoulder. She reached up and stroked his long, black hair, tenderly. His mouth moved back down to her nipples as he continued to glide in and out of her. As another wave of pleasure descended upon her, she wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly, vowing to herself never to let go. He sank into the feeling, giving it all to her, and when he was satiated, fulfilled, and shaking with his release, he wrapped his arms around her as well.

Falling to his side, he pulled her to him. His lips drifted over her forehead and hair. "I've never done that without taking blood," he confessed in a soft whisper.

She was quiet for a moment, after his confession, before she asked, "Do you want to take my blood?"

He propped up on his elbow. "Would you allow that?" He gazed down into her eyes, brown, warm, and so very alive.

"If that's what you want," she said. "I want it, too."

He shook his head no, lay back on the pillow, and pulled her to his chest. "No. I feel peaceful and happy for a change. I still want your blood, make no mistake about that, but I know now that I can have one without the other. It's a good feeling."

"Are you happy?" she asked. She rubbed her hand in small circles upon his chest.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I'm not sure I've ever been happy, so I'm not certain I would know what it feels like." He lifted her chin with one hand so that she was forced to gaze up at him. "Are you happy?"

"Yes, oh yes," she said. "And I love you, too."

He exhaled a breath and said, "I can't say that in return. Not yet. I'm sorry."

* * *

_Only one more chapter to this part of the series, and then on to the next story in the series, "Envy" which will be my very first Snape/Hermione story!_


	7. Chapter 7

**All characters belong to JKR**

**Part VII – The End**

After making love, Regulus admitted to Hermione that he had never completed the act without taking blood. After this confession she was quiet, contemplating, before she asked, "Do you want to take my blood?"

He propped up on his elbow. "Would you allow that?" He gazed down into her eyes, brown, warm, and so very alive. He knew that she didn't know what she was asking. If he took her blood, he would never allow her to leave. As it was, he wasn't sure he would be able to let her go, but if he took her blood, she would be bound to him forever. He had already had the essence of it, and it was so strong, so sweet, and so incredibly powerful that he was tempted…so very tempted…to keep her here even without taking her blood. If he took her blood, she would be his forever.

"If that's what you want," she said. "I want it, too."

He shook his head no, lay back on the pillow, and pulled her to his chest. For once in his life, he would be selfless, just as she was being selfless in her offer. He answered, "No. I feel peaceful and happy for a change. I still want your blood, make no mistake about that, but I know now that I can have one without the other. It's a good feeling." And it was.

"Are you happy?" she asked. She rubbed her hand in small circles upon his chest.

"I don't know," he admitted, although he thought that he might be. "I'm not sure I've ever been happy, so I'm not certain I would know what it feels like." He lifted her chin with one hand so that she was forced to gaze up at him. "Are you happy?"

"Yes, oh yes," she said. "And I love you, too."

He exhaled a breath. He couldn't believe that a woman such as she would ever love a man such as he. He knew that she wanted him to say that he loved her too, but just as he didn't know what happiness was, he didn't know what 'love' was either. Perhaps in time she would show him both, but it was too soon. He said, "I can't say that in return. Not yet. I'm sorry."

She frowned at his admission and he instantly felt ashamed for saying it, but he owed her the truth. He looked at her once more and said, "I merely want to be truthful with you."

"That's fine, of course," she said, "as I do with you."

"I will say one thing," he offered, "I don't think I can let you go now."

She looked up at the ceiling instead of looking into his eyes as he made his claim. Hermione Granger was a strong woman, a woman with her own mind, her own agenda, and her own wants and desires. She wanted this man so she searched for him. She wanted to heal him, but he may be beyond redemption, or perhaps he was already healed. She didn't know. The only thing in which she was certain was that she couldn't stay here and live with uncertainty for the rest of her life. She wouldn't give up her moral, her values, or her life for any man, even if she loved him.

She wouldn't ask him to give up his life for her either. She propped herself up on her elbow, looked down at him and said, "I'm not sure that's up to you. I don't think I can stay here, not even for you. I don't know what will happen later. Let's not worry about that right now." She leaned forward, kissed him, and soon they were once again making love.

In the aftermath of making love for the second time, Regulus and Hermione's thoughts were tangled and confused. He knew he could never let her go, yet he felt as if he could never have a normal life again. She knew that she loved him, yet she knew that it was too soon to know if that love was real, and it didn't matter anyway as he didn't trust in that love, and perhaps he never would.

They were still strangers. They came from utterly different worlds. They had different agendas, wants, and desires. The last twenty years of his life had been filled with rage and anger. Hers had been filled with hope and anticipation, patience and expectancy.

Perhaps it was a gulf that was too wide to cross.

She knew she couldn't stay here with him, in this strange place, with these strange people, forever. He knew he could never leave. They had no future and somehow they both knew it to be true.

Yet lying in each other's arms, they didn't care.

Hermione fell asleep, but when she woke, she was alone. Somehow, she knew she would be. She sat up, reached out in the darkness, and felt only empty air, so she pushed back the covers and turned up the oil lamp next to the bed. Finding her clothing, as well as her wand and the red tattered journal, she dressed, tucked the journal safely inside her jacket, armed herself, and went to the door.

It was unlocked.

She knew what that meant. He was telling her to go, or more to the point, he was letting her go.

Still oblivious to the time, or even the day, she stepped over the threshold and went out into the hallway. The hallway was lit sparingly, with only modest gas lanterns on the walls. She hurried to the room across the way, the room she knew to be his, and knocked upon the door. When there was no answer, she felt no reluctance about opening the door to see if he was inside. He wasn't.

Moving quickly down the hallway to the grand staircase, she flittered down the stairs, pausing slightly when she reached the landing for the second floor. The hallway there was once again dark and ominous. The only light was at the very end, near the windows, where there were two hurricane oil lamps on the walls. Though every fiber of her being, especially the ones that were tied to her curiosity, told her to find out what was happening behind the closed doors of the second floor, she ran past it and down the rest of the way.

After searching the entire first floor and not finding a single soul, she decided that perhaps she should try to leave. She didn't want to leave him, but she knew in the deep recesses of her heart that she couldn't stay here with him perpetually. She went to the parlor, found a piece of parchment and a quill in the large escritoire in the corner of the room and she wrote him a note. She explained to him that it wasn't a _'goodbye'_ but an _'I can't stay right now'_ note.

She hoped that he believed her. She hoped that it was true.

She folded the piece of parchment in thirds, printed his name large on the front of it and put it on the mantle, where he would be sure to find it. Then she sighed and started toward the doorway when she saw someone hurry past her, running really, through the foyer, up the stairs.

She followed.

The person had a dark cloak and they headed straight for the second floor. She paused at the bottom of the stairs. The person paused at the top, then turned and looked at her. It was Sanguini, the person who first lead her here – the person who told her all about vampires, and who led her to believe that Regulus was the creature that he was.

He seemed shocked to see her, appalled even. He started back down the stairs, stopped, and then said, "What in the world are you doing here, Miss Granger?"

"I had to find him," she said cryptically, knowing he would know to whom she spoke.

"How…but, how did you find the place? How did you enter? Do they know you are here?" He looked all around and only then did he run back down the stairs. "You really must leave. I'll escort you out of here."

"No," she begged, backing away from him as he approached. "I've been here, well, I think for days, I'm not really sure. Things are a bit murky."

He regarded her wearily for a moment and then said, "Explain."

She did. She told him of how she had spied on the house for days, and how Regulus apparently had been watching her as well. Hermione explained about the fight with the rogue vampires in the alley, how Regulus and she were injured, how he locked her into the room. She left out some details, but she told him about how he let her back out, only to lock her back in. She told him of the fight between Regulus, Cain and Abel.

He looked shocked at this point.

He took her arm in his hand, ushered her closer to the front door, and said, "They fought? Over you? Over your blood?" Again, he looked over his shoulder. "Where are they now?"

"I really don't know," she said. His grip was tight on her arm, but she didn't sense danger, so she didn't go for her wand. However, she felt slight alarm when he looked down at her and posed his next question.

"Did they only want your blood? Were they fighting for something more?" His grip tightened on her arm and he reached in his robe and pulled out his own wand with his free hand. "Tell me, Miss Granger, did you sleep with one of them?"

"Let go of me," she demanded, pulling out her own wand and brandishing it before him.

He expelled a breath and his head dropped to her shoulder, his body pressed hers against the door and he said, "You stupid, stupid, girl. It's my fault as well. I knew why you asked me those questions. I knew you would seek him out. I knew you had romantic notions. Don't you see? He'll never let you go now. You're his. Tell me he didn't take your blood as well as your body. Please, tell me he didn't take your blood!"

"He didn't!" she promised, her voiced raised a pitch, her wand hand shaking. "Now let me go!"

"We'll leave together," he said, as he moved away from her, only to usher her to the door.

Sanguini went for the handle, but a voice above him said, "No one is leaving this house."

Sanguini and Hermione turned toward the voice on the stairs. It was the blond vampire, Abel. He stood tall and repeated his command. "No one is leaving, Sanguini, not you, and certainly not her. She belongs to Black now."

Sanguini placed Hermione behind him and said, "This isn't necessary. Let her go. She's not part of this. She doesn't belong to anyone."

"You're being naïve, Sanguini, besides, she knows too much," the other vampire said lazily, as he started down the long staircase.

"What does she know?" Sanguini asked. "That Black is a vampire? So what? I know it too, as do others. She'll not tell. She knew it before she came here. And as for her knowing how to get to the coven, that's an easy fix. I'll Oblivate her memory as soon as we leave here. I'll Oblivate everything!"

Abel looked at the other vampire doubtfully and then laughed. "Her mind is too strong for that. You know it, as do I. Moreover, the draw of her blood is too strong. It's powerful, I know. One taste was all it took, and now she can never leave."

Sanguini looked back to Hermione and accused, "You said Black never tasted you!"

"He may have tasted some, when he healed my hand," she began.

Abel laughed and interrupted, "I tasted her! Last evening! Before Black fought me off and I have to say, she is exquisite! Her blood is potent and it made me feel powerful! She will be vital, I know it, in our work here, so Cain and I have decided, and I'm sure Black will agree since he's fallen so doe-eyed for her, but she's not leaving here. She's going to help us with our cause. Come Hermione, come find out what happens on the second floor."

Abel smiled, showing full fang, and extended his hand toward Hermione. She shook in fear and trepidation, but stood her ground, holding her wand tightly in her hand. Sanguini stood beside her, his wand held just as tight, his feet also rooted to the floor. "I'm so sorry," he said to her. "You must reach the door," he added, "and then we'll try to leave together."

He raised his hand to fire a hex toward the vampire on the stairs, but a hex hit him first from a vampire standing in the doorway of a room off the foyer, down the hallway. Sanguini fell in a heap at Hermione's feet.

She turned toward the door and reached for the handle, scrambled to open it, but it wouldn't open. Cain rushed to her from his hiding place down the hall, after having hit Sanguini with the curse. He snaked his arm around her waist even as his brother ran down the stairs and grabbed her wand out of her hand. Stepping over the body of Sanguini, Cain and Abel carried a kicking and screaming Hermione Granger up the stairs to the second floor.

They set her down outside the first room. Cain held her back toward his chest, his arms like iron bands around her body, one hand around her mouth. She still fought and squirmed, but the tall, dark haired vampire was much too strong and much too big for her. Abel stood in front of her, pocketed her wand and said, "Hush now, be quiet, you should feel honoured. You're about to become one of us. You're about to be shown our life's work. You of all people, someone who helped take down the Dark Lord, who helped fight Death Eaters, should find our work worthy."

He stroked a long finger down her face. She stilled at his words. She was curious as to what he referred, yet still repulsed and more than a bit afraid. Noting her acquiescence, Cain eased his hold on her, but kept one hand on her arm, as Abel reached his hand over and took her other arm.

"Shall we show her brother? Shall we show her what we do here at our coven? Shall we show her what takes place sometimes here on the second floor? What feeds Black's wrath? What eases the pain of how our mortal lives were taken from us?" Abel teased.

Cain smiled and said, "Black is in the last room, as we speak. Yes, let's show her. She needs to know. I even think she wants to know. She claims she wants to give us back our humanity, but I think she should see that it's too late for that, and that we don't want our humanity, we only want revenge."

They were slowly easing Hermione toward a room at the end of the hallway. She looked from one vampire to the other, and at the word 'revenge', she looked at Cain and said, "Revenge? Revenge for what?"

Cain pulled her from his brother's grip and pushed her against her wall. "Revenge against the men who made us like we are!"

"Who made vampires?" she asked.

He laughed. Abel laughed as well and pressed his body to her side. His breath was warm on Hermione's cheek, his face hovering close to hers, as was Cain's. It was all too much, too close, too much to bear. She closed her eyes for a moment, only to open them when she heard a scream from inside the room.

When she opened her eyes Abel said, "We want revenge against the Death Eaters, Little Mouse. You were told the story. Death Eaters killed our family. Death Eaters are the reason we were forced to become vampires to survive. Death Eaters were the reason Black was enticed to follow the Dark Lord and his teachings, when he was merely a boy of seventeen. Many Death Eaters and their families got off with very light sentences, and some got off completely free, did you know that?"

Hermione felt sick to her stomach suddenly and the urge to wretch was unavoidable, but she swallowed the bile and said nothing in response. What could she say? What did this man mean by that statement? Another scream from inside the room gave her a small inkling as to what he meant.

Abel laughed again and said, "Sounds as if Black is having a grand time in there tonight. I wonder who's in there with him. Shall we go look?" He opened the door and pulled on Hermione's wrist, pulling her into the room with him. Cain followed, closing the door behind him.

The room was almost devoid of furnishing. There were several chairs, a bed, one small table beside it, and not much else. In one chair by the fireplace sat a man, tied up with chains. Hermione noticed him first. On the bed, on top of the covers, was Regulus, and he was drinking from the arterial pulse of a woman, who was crying, whimpering, in his arms.

When they entered the room, the man started to shout, "Please, help us. They are going to kill us! That vampire is killing my wife."

Regulus seemed oblivious to the intrusion. He continued his feed. He was in the middle of a blood lust, and it sickened Hermione. She turned her head away and stared at the man in the chair. He didn't seem familiar to her, but he recognized her and he said her name and pleaded again for her to help him, which at that point, Abel went over and struck the man. The man and the chair fell on the floor.

Abel said to the man on the floor, "Do you really think that Hermione Granger, war hero, would deem to help a former Death Eater like you? Stay on the floor where you belong and take the punishment that we're giving you!"

"I was never a Death Eater! I swear!" the man promised from the floor. "My brother was, but not me! The Ministry investigated me and deemed that I was innocent!"

"STOP THIS!" Hermione finally shouted. She pulled her arm from Cain's grip and moved to the bed. "STOP!"

Cain moved to her side. "He can't stop, not yet. Let him finish with her," Cain said, almost softly. "He won't kill her. He'll take her to the brink, yes, but he won't kill her. He never does. He'll make sure she doesn't remember as well. The husband is different. We want the husband to remember," Cain repeated, moving over to the man on the floor, who looked up at Cain in fear. "He'll remember, and be afraid, wondering, when will they come again? Whom might they take the next time? Will it be his wife again, or perhaps one of his daughters? Will they stop the next time or will they kill the next time? That's his punishment. He'll live with the same fear that Muggle-borns lived with during the reign of Voldemort, and he won't tell a soul, because we'll compel him not to tell." Cain squatted down, looked into the man's eyes, and said, "Isn't that right? You won't tell a soul."

Tears streaked Hermione's face and she leaned over the bed. "Please, stop, Regulus. I beg you to stop!" Regulus looked up into her eyes finally. He didn't seem to recognize her, even as she called his name, and pleaded with him to stop, stop, "STOP!"

Sanguini ran into the opened doorway of the room, his wand in front of him. Hermione looked across the room at him. She asked, "Did you know about this? Did you know they did this here?"

Abel laughed and answered for the other man. "Knew? Of course, he knew! He participates! Many vampires participate! Vampires hate Death Eaters! He came here tonight for a bite, didn't you, Sanguini, after all, a man has to eat."

Regulus finally removed his fangs from the woman's neck and sagged against the headboard, the woman's body hanging limply over his arm. His mouth was bloody, as was his shirt and the sheets. The woman looked dead; she was devoid of movement and colour. He closed his eyes, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. It was only in that instant, that moment that he seemed to realize that others were in the room.

When he realized it, he was aghast. He opened his eyes to see horror on the face of Hermione, who stood at the side of the bed. He leaped from the bed quickly, leaving the woman in a heap, and demanded of his fellow vampires, "What is she doing here? Her room was to remain locked!"

"I unlocked the door. I thought she should see our life's work," Abel said proudly.

Sanguini moved through the room and went right to Hermione. "Let's go now!" He tried to remove her from the room, but she bent over the bed and tried to administer healing spells to the woman who had lost most of her blood, although she didn't have her wand. Her efforts were futile.

Sanguini took her arm, but she pushed at him and shouted, "No! Leave me be! I have to help her! Give me your wand!"

"NO! I have to get you out of here. I feel responsible for you. It's my fault that you're here. Don't worry about the woman. She's beyond help!" Sanguini argued.

"Don't say that!" Hermione disagreed. She stared back at Regulus, who had moved to the corner of the room. He seemed to be in a sort of shocked embarrassment that Hermione had seen him feeding.

"She's not dead," Cain countered, coming to the other side of the bed. He knelt on the bed, felt for a pulse, and said, "See, she has a pulse. Black never kills them. He never loses control."

"NEVER LOSES CONTROL!" Hermione barked. She pushed Cain away from the woman and said, "He wasn't even aware anyone was in the room! He didn't stop even as I was shouting and yelling for him to! That's losing control!" She turned toward Abel and said, "Give me my wand, now!"

He seemed to find the whole thing comical and he threw her wand to her. It bounced on the bed. She reached for it, but before she could administer healing spells, Sanguini grabbed her hand and began to pull her from the room, even as Regulus remained in the corner, in silent shock.

"Wait…" Abel began with anger, as he watched Sanguini pull her from the room, but Cain stalled his brother and said, "I'll escort them away." Even as Hermione was shouting for Sanguini and Cain to let her go, they pulled her out into the hallway.

Abel turned toward Black and said, "So that's it? You're going to let her go? Are you just going to stand there and do nothing? Are you a bloody humanitarian now? Have you grown soft? Are you full or morals and righteousness? One quick fuck with a Mudblood and you're no longer filled with hate toward the people who made us what we are?

"You know she'll go to the Ministry. She'll turn us in. We can't let her leave. Also, I've had her blood. It's very powerful. She would make a powerful vampire. She could help us in our work! We could punish them all! We could punish every Death Eater who remains on the face of the earth! Think about it, Black! I know you don't want her to leave! Make her stay, make her…"

Black interrupted Abel's diatribe by holding up his hand and saying, "Enough. Let her leave. Don't try to stop her. You know I'm stronger than you are. I'll kill you if you hurt her. I've had enough. She's had enough."

"You've lost your anger. What good are you now?" Abel complained as he fled out the door, past Cain and Sanguini, who still had his hand around Hermione's wrist.

Hermione stood in the hallway and stared into the room, watching Regulus pace back and forth between the unconscious man on the floor, and the equally unconscious woman on the bed. She didn't know what to say. Even as Sanguini started to pull her away, she held onto the doorjamb.

Finally, he spoke first. Regulus looked up at her with a haunting expression and he said, "I told you that I had lost my humanity."

"Yes, you told me that, and perhaps you have. I don't know. I don't know if I know anything." She looked down at the floor and willed herself not to cry. She looked back up at him and begged, "Tell me one thing. Do you have any feelings, honest feelings, true feelings, at all for me? A man without humanity could not have shown the feelings that you showed toward me, so I ask you, do you have feelings for me at all?"

"I don't feel any good feelings for anyone any longer. I only feel anger, pain, and wrath." He hung his head again and ended with, "I told you that I didn't love you. I wish you had believed me. I'm sorry.""

"No, you didn't tell me that you didn't love me. You only told me that you couldn't say it, but it doesn't matter, because I believe you now," she whispered, "and if you're truly sorry, then at least you feel something. I'm sorry too, but I'm sorry for you, not for me." She removed her wrist from the other vampire's hand and walked back into the room, approached him, and said, "If you had asked me to stay, and never leave you, I would have stayed, and never left. You wouldn't have had to force me to stay, because I would have stayed out of love." She leaned forward, kissed his cheek, and turned to walk out the door.

He wanted to say…wait, don't leave me…wait, stay with me…wait, I do love you. Those WERE the things he wanted to say. The problem was that he didn't know how to say them.

Now she was leaving and he would never get a chance to say another word to her.

He was surprised by her parting words. He thought her last words to him would be full of hate and disgust. He was certain that she must feel revulsion for him. He was stunned that she wasn't angry with him. He was surprised that she didn't hate him.

She walked out into the hallway. Cain and Sanguini were nowhere to be found. It was dimmer than the hallway on the third floor, only being lit with two hurricane oil lamps at the end of the hall. She closed the door from where she had just come and looked up to see Abel standing at the other end of the hall, near the stairs. She gripped her wand, just in case, and pointed it toward the other vampire as she walked closer to him down the hall.

"He's letting you leave?" Abel asked.

"He didn't ask me stay, or tell me I couldn't leave, so yes, I'm leaving. I won't tell anyone about this place, unless you continue to do what you do, then I promise you, I'll tell the Aurors, the Ministry, and anyone who will listen. It's not up to you to play Judge and Jury and punish those who you deem need punished."

He laughed at her. She glared at him.

"You're so innocent, yet self-righteous, Miss Granger."

"No, I lost my innocence a very long time ago, but unlike you, and Regulus and your brother, I didn't lose my humanity along with my innocence. I didn't lose my morals with my humanity. I didn't lose my conscience or sense of right and wrong. I wasn't much older than you were, or Regulus was, when faced with darkness and danger and evil, yet I overcame it, and I didn't let it rule my life."

Regulus stood on the other side of the doorway, hanging on to every word she said, and he knew she was right, yet he had no response for her declaration. Abel, however, had a few things to say.

"Who are you to tell me what is right and what is wrong, Little Mouse?" Abel asked.

"You're only responsible for yourself," she countered, "but I won't let you hurt others. I'll stop you. I will. I expect you to let that man and woman leave here before I leave tonight, and if there are any other people here, waiting to be punished, here on the second floor, I expect you to let them leave as well."

"Oh really?" he laughed.

"Are there any others here?" she asked seriously.

"Open another door and find out," he leered.

"Tell me instead," she leveled. "Tell me or face _my_ wrath."

He pointed his wand at her and laughed. "You really shouldn't make threats that you can't keep."

She pointed her wand at him. "You really shouldn't tempt me to make threats that you don't want me to keep, either."

He leveled a curse at her, which she ducked just in time. She ran back down the hallway just as the door to the room she was in before opened quickly and Regulus started out, wand in hand, but she actually pushed him back in the room. She pointed her wand at Abel, shouted, "Expelliarmus!" but she was too late. He had shouted another curse at her first. His curse rebounded against her curse, and hit the glass hurricane lamps behind her, shattering the glass into pieces, sending the pieces into the air, where the flame sputtered everywhere, catching a small table and drapes of the window near it on fire.

Hermione gave a cry of fright as the globes broke and the fire ignited.

Abel ran up the stairs to the third floor, instead of down, even though he was well aware that one of the few ways a vampire could die was by fire. Hermione turned to the fire, and Regulus stepped from the room at the same time. He pointed his wand at the flames and shouted, "Augamenti!" but the flames were already too high, the wallpaper already ablaze and rolling black and charred, the flames fingers licking the ceiling and even the floor.

Soon the fire and smoke was everywhere. Black and bilious, it filled the air. Regulus reached for Hermione's hand and they ran toward the stairs. Taking no chances, he swooped her into his arms and practically glided down the stairs. At the bottom, they saw Cain and Sanguini.

"What happened?" Cain asked, shocked.

"Fire, the second floor!" Regulus explained. "It's taking off fast. We must get out!"

"Are there others here tonight?" Sanguini asked, though the question was on Hermione's lips.

Regulus looked at Cain for an answer. "Yes, there are," Cain answered, adding, "Where's Abel? Where's my brother?"

"He went up the stairs, instead of down," Hermione answered. "He started the fire. He tried to kill me. We have to get everyone out of here!"

Cain ran up the stairs, and Hermione started to follow. Regulus pulled her back, pushed her into Sanguini's arms and said, "Take her to safety. I'll see that the others get out safely."

Hermione began to protest, but she had no choice – Sanguini was stronger than she was. He pulled her from the house, but they stood within the wards, within the walls surrounding the gardens, and watched as the entire house was consumed and engulfed with flames and smoke.

Sanguini explained that the house was protected by such powerful illusion charms that Muggles wouldn't even be able to see the fire and smoke. He also assured her that no one would be able to save the place and that by morning it would be nothing but a pile of ash.

They watched the burning structure for what felt like an eternity, but no one exited the house. Not Regulus, not Abel, not Cain, and certainly not any of their victims. When the purple and pink haze of dawn approached, she was exhausted by her own frantic thoughts and from fighting against a foe larger and stronger than she was.

She wasn't aware of finally leaving the confines of the house, but Sanguini must have pulled her away from the front garden, past the wards, because just as the sun came over the sky, what was left of the house began to fade from view, due to the powerful magical charm that surrounded it.

The last thing Hermione recalled, before waking up the next morning, was being physically lifted by Sanguini and carried far away from the old grey mansion with the gargoyles. When she woke up she was in her own flat, in her own bed, in her favourite nightgown, and she seriously thought for one moment that perhaps the last few days had all been a massive nightmare or hallucination.

Except it couldn't have been, could it?

She took a long, hot shower and ate a large breakfast. She called her mum on the phone, then Owled Harry to tell him that she was fine and to apologize for not contacting him for the last few days. She sat by her window and watched as the lavender, morning sky turned grey with the threat of rain. Her thoughts felt disjointed and disconnected and she decided she needed to see if any of what happened was real.

She called in sick at work, telling them that was why she had missed the last two days as well. Then she scanned _The Daily Prophet_ to see if there were any reports of missing people. There was none. Did that mean that the people who were on the second floor of the house escaped the fire, and were safely in their own homes this morning, or did it mean that they were not yet missed?

She tried to contact Sanguini first, but to no avail. Then she went to the same alley and tried to spy the large mansion, but she could no longer see it. Perhaps it burnt to the ground and the rubble and debris had already been cleared away? Perhaps the charms and enchantments that had kept it hidden from prying eyes for so many years were merely doing their duty once more, so that was why she could not see it today. Perhaps it was never there, and she imagined the whole thing.

She leaned against the brick building to the left of the alley, pulled out the red, leather-bound journal and looked at it closely. She didn't imagine it. It was real. Suddenly, an odd feeling came over her. She felt as if she was no longer alone. She looked up; saw no one, though she was certain she heard her name in the breeze that blew the dead leaves on the ground.

His presence was in the alley with her, she knew it. She closed her eyes, and then opened them just as quickly, and he was there, paler than usual, stark, and gaunt, with a tortured, searing, soul-searching haunting hunger in his eyes, along with something that was not quite rage, no…not rage…but something else.

"Regulus?" she asked, uncertain if it was really him. "Is that you?"

He nodded, reached for her, but then as if he was afraid of touching her, he recoiled, his hand springing back to his side, and he said, "I've changed my mind. I'm not angry any longer and I don't want you to leave me."

"What?" She was confused. "I don't understand. Tell me what happened. What happened to your home? Did everyone survive?"

"Did you hear me? I'm not angry any longer and I don't want you to leave me, I just decided," he said hoarsely. That was when she realized that the look in his eyes, the look she assumed was rage, was not rage, or wrath at all. It was terror. It was fear. He was afraid of losing her.

He reached out for her, frantically, his hands sliding over her arms, ribs, waist, pulling her closer. "Please, don't leave me. I'll die if you leave me. You can make me complete again. Teach me to be a human again. Teach me humanity. Teach me humility. Teach me morality. Teach me, Hermione."

"I will," she said, her cheek against his. "I won't leave you. I didn't know what happened. I wasn't even sure if anything was real. What happened after the fire?"

His arms still fast around her, he held tight and said, "The fire destroyed my coven, destroyed my home, and destroyed what I thought was my life's work, and my very reason for living, but what it really did was save my life, that's what happened. Cain and Abel are dead. I tried to save them, but in the end, they didn't want to be saved. I was able to save the others that were held on the second floor. I Obliviated their memories, and sent them all home.

"If I had died saving them, it would have been worth it, because it would have been as if I was saving you, because I would have given my immortal life for you. I still will. I love you. Please, don't leave me."

They embraced and kissed and Regulus presented, "I no longer have a home to offer you, but I would still very much like us to be together. I don't know how to be with someone as good as you, Hermione, so you'll have to be very patient with me. It may take some time for me to learn to be a man worthy of you."

Rain began to beat down on them in earnest, but neither cared or noticed. The rain washed away all traces of wrath, anger and pain that remained in Regulus, and as Hermione reached for Regulus' hand, she said, "I'm very patient. Patience is a virtue, Regulus, and it's the antithesis of wrath, don't you know, so don't worry, I have enough patience for both of us. You don't need to provide a home for me. I have a home, and can provide one for you. So, would you like to go home with me, instead?"

He nodded and she took his hand and they went home together, wrath and patience, Regulus and Hermione, together, forever.

THE END


End file.
